


It actually hurts

by parkkate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Harry Potter, Blow Jobs, Body Positivity, Chubby Harry Potter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Famous Harry Potter, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Insecurity, Loss of Virginity, Lots of wine, M/M, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Post-War, Rimming, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Songfic, Switching, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and firewhiskey, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-04 19:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15154337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkkate/pseuds/parkkate
Summary: For years, Draco has tried to avoid Harry Potter. He just knows he’ll make a fool out of himself if they spent more than five minutes in a room together. Unfortunately, Potter suddenly seems intent on becoming Draco’s friend, but neither of them are prepared for the inevitable consequences...





	1. Take it as a compliment

**Author's Note:**

> Dear mycatisthecutest, thank you for prompting ["Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUoe7cf0HYw) \- one of my favorite songs! I hope I did it justice with this fic. I also hope you’re okay with the little bit of angst I put in there. I know this is supposed to be a fun song, but it seems I just can’t help myself. I hope you like it :) A million thanks to my fabulous beta [JET_Playin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JET_Playin/pseuds/JET_Playin), who I couldn’t have done this without! ❤️️ And a huge thank you to the amazing mods of this fest!! ❤️️

**Saturday, 14 December 2002**

“Is that who I think it is?”

Draco was tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh. Usually, he didn’t mind Blaise being overly dramatic, but tonight, he definitely wasn’t in the mood for it.

“What did you expect?” he muttered as he sipped at his wine.

“I didn’t expect him to clean up so nicely,” Blaise practically purred.

Draco peeked over at where Potter was shaking hands with dozens of witches and wizards, all smiling broadly at him. One wizard actually looked like he was about to piss himself. Ugh.

“Sweet Merlin, he certainly is more charismatic than he used to be, isn’t he?” Blaise said in an amused tone.

“Can you please not?” Draco said. His eyes lingered on Potter’s robes, the way people were touching them, as if all their sorrows would vanish with just one touch of the Wizarding World’s glorious Saviour. Potter didn’t seem to like it. He nodded and smiled, but Draco could tell from the tension in his shoulders and the weariness in his eyes that he wasn’t enjoying himself.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Blaise said, raising his champagne flute.

“It’s my party,” Draco snapped, pointedly ignoring the fact that Blaise was still waiting for him to clink glasses.

“Exactly,” Blaise said cheerfully, touching his glass to Draco’s with a toothy grin. “I can’t wait till Potter gets to us.”

Honestly, Draco didn’t share the sentiment. He was far more comfortable watching Potter from afar. He had been doing it for the last two hours, his eyes rarely leaving that poorly tamed black hair as Potter made his round through the room. It may have been a bit childish, but Draco wasn’t playing cat and mouse for his amusement. He was doing it to keep his sanity intact.

Technically, it was impolite not to greet the host of the party first, but, of course, Potter had no idea Draco was the host. Nobody did, except for his closest friends.

“I need another one,” Draco said, gesturing to his empty glass. “You want something?”

“Why don’t you just wait for one of those waiters to come by? You’ll miss Potter if you go to the bar now,” Blaise said, without looking at Draco.

Of course, this was the very reason he was going to the bar, but Blaise didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll be right back,” he simply said and made his way through the crowd, feeling more wobbly on his feet than he had anticipated. He deliberated switching to water instead of having another glass of wine. He definitely shouldn’t be tipsy while Potter was around.

As he reached the bar, he peeked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Blaise with his most dazzling smile on his face. It appeared Draco had left at exactly the right time. But judging from the way Blaise was stroking Potter’s arm, it was very clear his friend shouldn’t be left alone with Potter. Damn it, where was Pansy when you needed her? Although, Draco doubted that would have stopped Blaise from shamelessly flirting with Potter. Or anyone for that matter.

Draco’s eyes wandered over to Potter, who looked a bit flustered. He drank in the rosy tint on his cheeks, his clean shaven skin, the line of his jaw, the shape of his lips…

Why couldn’t Potter be one of those people who, when you met them years later, suddenly looked hideous and nothing like you remembered them? Why couldn’t he have wrinkles all over his face or a lazy eye or a hunched back? Of course he had to waltz in here, looking even more attractive than he had in school. Why was the world so unfair?

It was suddenly brought to Draco’s attention that there was another thing that hadn’t changed one bit. Potter’s eyes were still so mesmerising, you could drown in them, forget everything around you. Draco almost did, except… there was a reason that realisation had suddenly hit him. Potter was staring right at him. Draco felt like the rug had been pulled out from under his feet. A cold shiver ran down his spine, followed by a hot flash that prompted him to subtly lay his hand on the bar for support.

Countless times he had taken a look at the Daily Prophet, only for Potter to stare at him from the front page. Draco always scowled back, sometimes he even stuck out his tongue at the picture. But now… It really wasn’t the same, seeing Potter in person. The most significant difference was, he always looked displeased in those pictures. Now, he looked… not shocked but… almost startled. Why, though?

Draco’s eyes widened as Potter’s lips slowly stretched into the ghost of a smile. He suddenly felt like the Whomping Willow had smacked him in the side of his head. He let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when Potter turned his attention back to Blaise, nodding and smiling politely.

Draco briefly closed his eyes, willing himself to pull it together. But the tingling in the pit of his belly was hard to ignore. He had known this evening would be… challenging, but inviting Potter had been the smart move to make. Draco would suffer through it. For the greater good, so to speak. Inviting Potter to an event automatically sparked the interest of the whole Wizarding World, and that was what Draco needed, no matter how much he disliked it.

It seemed so long ago that he had been a guest to events like this himself, and had actually enjoyed himself. All these rich and pompous people were so incredibly boring and irritating, he couldn’t wait for this night to be over. All he wanted was their money, and he often wondered if they even cared what he was doing with it. So, yes, inviting Potter was smart, because it meant more money. The fact that Draco could watch him from afar was merely a pleasant side effect. But he had to be careful. It couldn’t be anything more than that.

When he opened his eyes, Potter and Blaise were still in conversation, although Blaise did most of the talking. Taking a deep breath, Draco turned around and ordered another glass of wine. Being tipsy around Potter might not be a good idea but there was no way he could endure this sober. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the room for Pansy, when someone cleared their throat beside him. Draco already knew who it was before he turned around, mentally cursing everyone and everything.

“Hey Malfoy,” Potter said with a weird expression on his face.

Draco arched an eyebrow and stayed silent. ‘Hey Malfoy?’ That was his big opening after they hadn’t seen each other in over a year? Really? Well, not that they were friends. They were nothing, really.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he continued.

Draco resisted the urge to scowl at him. “Why? Am I not allowed to enjoy myself?”

“What, no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, I see,” Draco snapped. “It’s because this is a charity gala and how in Merlin’s name could _I_ be—”

“Ugh, Malfoy,” Potter interrupted him. “Stop putting words into my mouth. I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all.” His eyes darted down to the floor and back up to Draco’s face. “It’s, err, it’s a nice surprise.”

Draco blinked. What? What did Potter mean by ‘nice surprise’? Was he taking the piss?

“You’re doing that thing again,” Potter said with a sigh.

“What thing?” Draco snapped.

“The thing you used to do in school.” He leaned against the bar, cocking his head to the side. “Not everything I say to you is meant as an insult. Well, not anymore.”

“I’m so relieved,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. Potter seemed to be ignoring his comment, his eyes roaming the room.

“Do you know who organised this?” he asked.

Draco stiffened. “Why do you want to know?”

Potter shrugged. “Apparently this person organised a bunch of things before, but this is the first time they invited me. I’m just curious to know why.”

“Right, because people need a reason to invite the most famous wizard alive,” Draco snorted.

Potter made a face. “I just think it’s strange, being here without knowing who invited me.”

“I’ve been told the host wants to stay anonymous,” Draco said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Why, though?” Potter said with a frown. “If they’re doing something good, don’t they want to be recognised for it?”

Draco could feel beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck. “Oh, Potter,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Not everyone is keen on rushing into the spotlight as you are.”

“You know that’s bollocks, right?,” Potter said, his frown deepening. “I’d gladly exchange all the ‘famous Harry Potter’ rubbish for a boring, normal life.”

Draco gave him an appraising look. “Normal isn’t exactly the first word that comes to mind when you’re concerned.” Or boring, Draco added in his mind.

“Exactly,” Potter said with a loud exhale. He propped up his elbow on the bar, leaning his head against his hand. “But do tell me, what _is_ the first word that comes to mind when I’m concerned?” His serious expression turned into a teasing one, catching Draco off guard. What was Potter doing? He looked at Draco expectantly, the corner of his mouth twitching. It was the wrong night to challenge Draco. Two could play at this game.

“A few come to mind, actually,” he said in his poshest voice. “Awful, uncouth, dowdy, dense…” _… handsome, mind-blowing…_ “… irritating… Do you want me to go on?”

Potter’s grin didn’t fade at Draco’s insults, but he waved a dismissive hand in the air. “That’s alright,” he said. “Even though that’s the most entertaining thing anyone has said to me all night.”

“Why did you come, then? Why not decline? Don’t tell me you’re suddenly a fan of pretentious pure-bloods?” he smirked.

“You realise _you’re_ a pretentious pure-blood, right?” Potter retorted. He arched an eyebrow when Draco burst out laughing.

“Who would have thought, out of the two of us, you would become the prejudiced one?”

It felt good, seeing Potter stare at him in astonishment. It took the edge off the heat that was spreading in Draco’s chest.

“Fair enough,” Potter said. “I’m looking forward to having my mind changed.”

And just like that, the heat was back, tenfold, devouring Draco from the inside.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” Potter said, and it didn’t escape Draco’s notice he moved a bit closer.

No. NO! This was exactly what Draco hadn’t wanted to happen, even though he hadn’t thought he’d actually have to worry about it. He couldn’t have Potter snooping around… right in front of him.

“Not much,” he said evenly, keeping his face impassive. “Just… living my life, I guess.” He picked up the wine the bartender had left for him and took a sip.

“What is your life like these days?” Potter asked. Draco couldn’t detect an undertone. He sounded genuinely curious. However, Draco didn’t want to discuss that with him. He didn’t want to discuss anything with Potter right now. He was short of breath and, surely, Potter would notice. His gaze darted to his left and, acting as though someone had just waved him over, he put on an almost convincing smile.

“So sorry to cut this short, but it seems I’m needed elsewhere.”

Without waiting for a reply, Draco hurried through the crowd, until he felt like he put enough distance between them. He bumped into a group of middle-aged witches who were quick to engage him in conversation. Draco did his best to laugh at their jokes and to seem interested in their wittering, but ultimately excused himself again when one of the witches started complaining about how exhausting redecorating her parlour was.

Where the hell was Pansy, Draco asked himself for the umpteenth time. She’d probably be able to keep Potter away with just a glance. But, unfortunately, she was nowhere to be seen. What was even more unfortunate was the fact that Draco was so lost in thought, he didn’t realise who was standing in front of him until it was too late.

“Hey,” Potter simply said.

Didn’t he have any other words in his repertoire? He said it in such a nonchalant way, too. As if they were old friends. It was too casual. It was infuriating. Draco kept his face neutral while his insides boiled.

“You know, I was wondering if—”

“Oh, look at that,” Draco said, gesturing to Potter’s empty hands. “You don’t have a drink. I’ll get you one.”

Before Potter could say anything else, Draco strutted away, his chin held high. He’d rather be dead than let Potter know what he was doing to him. He told one of the waiters to get Harry freaking Potter a drink, who, in turn, looked mortified at having neglected the unofficial guest of honour.

Draco grabbed yet another glass of wine himself before he spotted Blaise near the balcony.

“Are we behaving tonight, or are we getting pissed?” Blaise asked in a seemingly innocent tone.

“We’re behaving,” Draco said, emphatically.

“Really? Because you look like you’re already halfway there.” Blaise nodded at his face, making Draco frown. “You’re flushed. It’s quite dinky.”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped, almost gulping down the whole glass. But Blaise was right. His face was too warm and his tongue felt a little heavy. He quickly scanned the room for Potter, who was now wedged between two wizards. They almost looked like they were trying to convince him to accompany them home after the gala. One of them was playing with the hair near his ear, while the other had his elbow on his shoulder and touched a finger to his chin every now and then. Draco inadvertently wondered what it would feel like to touch Potter like that; his index finger under his chin, while his thumb stroked his bottom lip…

Inwardly groaning, Draco downed the rest of his wine and shook his head. His gaze roamed Potter’s body, heat rising in his chest. Even though his robes didn’t give away much, Draco knew from the pictures he had seen in the Prophet that Potter had filled out. It suited him. Draco liked the fact that Potter didn’t look so delicate anymore. He also liked the fact that Potter was still shorter than him, even if it only was by a few inches.

Before he knew it, his eyes were glued to Potter’s lips again, unable to shake the sudden urge to touch them. For the longest time he had wanted to touch them. It was the most frustrating thing. Draco’s gaze momentarily flickered to Potter’s glass, which he had raised to his mouth. But before his lips touched it, his tongue darted out and he slowly licked the rim. Draco felt a violent shudder go through him, not only because this was far more sensual than should be allowed, but mainly, because he realised Potter was looking at him. Had he done that on purpose? Had he seen Draco staring at him? Fuck!

Panic washed over him as he watched Potter mumble something to the two wizards who were still stroking him, and march over to where Draco and Blaise were standing. Draco wanted to bolt but found himself rooted to the spot.

“I feel like you’re avoiding me,” Potter said point-blank. Draco wasn’t sure if he should brush it off with a laugh or deny it. Before he could decide, Blaise sniggered beside him.

“Take it as a compliment,” he said, touching his glass to Potter’s. Draco’s mouth dropped open and it took everything in him not to shout at his friend to shut the fuck up.

“Take— What?” Potter looked confused. Good. He’d always been too dense to pick up on things like that.

“Does the great Harry Potter not feel pampered enough?” Draco drawled, his head swimming. As soon as the words left his mouth, however, he inwardly cringed. This was another reason why he had avoided Potter. He’d been afraid something stupid like that might tumble out of his mouth. But what the hell was he supposed to say to him? Potter had saved him and his mother from Azkaban, showing them more sympathy than they probably deserved. That in itself was problematic enough. The real problem, though? It wasn’t in Draco’s nature to simply reciprocate such sympathy.

“Don’t be a dick, Malfoy,” Potter muttered, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I just wanted to talk to you. Is that so bad?”

Yes, Draco wanted to blurt. Instead, he stupidly asked, “Why?”

Potter just shrugged, prompting Draco to narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“You know what, I don’t want to keep you guys from catching up,” Blaise said cheerfully. “Ta-ta!” Within seconds, Draco lost sight of him, leaving him helpless and dizzy.

“Okay, um—” Potter looked unsure, tapping a finger on his glass. “How about we get another drink first?”

Draco thought he probably already had enough at this point, but something about Potter’s expression made him agree with a nod. He was smiling… almost shyly.

“Alright then,” Potter said, and gestured for Draco to lead the way. As soon as he started walking, he felt a hand on the small of his back and almost choked. His head whipped around to Potter, who gave him an innocent look and then… another smile. Draco’s eyes darted down to his lips and then back to his eyes.

Oh Merlin, he was completely fucked.


	2. That's honestly worse

**Sunday, 15 December 2002**

Draco experimentally opened one of his eyes, just to be greeted by harsh sunlight that made him feel like his head was exploding. Ugh! He hadn’t felt this horrible since two years ago, when Blaise had needed a drinking buddy, after he had caught his then-girlfriend cheating on him. That had been the worst hangover of his life. But, from the looks of it, this one seemed to be turning into a close runner-up.

Whimpering, he dragged himself to the bathroom and rummaged through the cabinet for a hangover potion. He hated that stuff, it tasted awful, and it didn’t really help with the headache, but still, it was quicker than just waiting for the queasiness to subside. When he found it, he quickly uncorked the little vial and downed it in one gulp, immediately brushing his teeth afterwards to get rid of the aftertaste.

Groggily, he trudged back to his bed but before he could plop down on it, he heard something over by the windows. Frowning, he let the unfamiliar barn-owl flutter in and watched it land on a chair. His eyes fell to the letter tied to the owl’s foot. If this was a note from Blaise, mocking him for last night, Draco would make sure he would never be able to use his hands again.

Mere seconds after he finished untying the letter, the owl screeched and took off again. Apparently, whoever had sent it didn’t expect a reply. Draco watched the owl vanish into the sky, before sinking down on his bed, careful not to make any sudden movements. The potion was working, he did feel better, but he still had a splitting headache.

It was his own fault. He never should have agreed to drinking firewhiskey with Potter. Oh. Oh no. He had drunk firewhiskey with Potter. But… fuck, he couldn’t remember what they had talked about. Something… about Blaise’s constant flirting… and… maybe Potter’s work and… nothing, he had no idea. Well, shit!

Absentmindedly, he opened the letter he was still holding, taking in the familiar handwriting.

_Hopefully you’re still in bed when you see this._   
_You can thank me later for sparing you the pain of spilling hot coffee all over yourself._   
_B_

Draco frowned. He turned the letter over to find something attached to the back of it. It looked like an article from the Daily Prophet; today’s Daily Prophet, Draco realised as his eyes widened. There was a picture of him and Potter, talking animatedly. The caption read something about the highly successful charity gala and how Potter had helped with it blah blah blah. It was the same balderdash as always. He scanned the paragraphs for the words “Ex-Death Eater” but found they had simply called him “socialite Draco Malfoy”. He scrunched up his nose, not sure if he liked that new title. But, whatever, he was far more interested in the picture anyway. He didn’t remember that. Any of it. Potter started laughing, apparently at something Draco had said. It did weird things to his stomach.

Something else seemed to have caught Potter’s attention, and while he looked away, picture-Draco’s eyes were still fixed on him. His look was so full of yearning, Draco suddenly felt sick again. Oh, for fuck’s sake! And this was in today’s Prophet? For the whole freaking Wizarding World to see? Potter had probably seen it by now as well. Fuck! _Fuck!_

Why had Draco agreed to the firewhiskey? Why had he invited Potter to the gala? Why was he still here? Why couldn’t the ground open and swallow him up?

As Draco sat there, feeling dizzy all over again, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t really be blamed for any of this. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get the insufferable prat out of his head. No, it was entirely Potter’s fault. And he was going to pay for it.

 

**Monday, 23 December 2002**

When Draco left Madam Malkin’s, holding a bag with his new robes he planned to wear on Christmas, the commotion in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies immediately caught his attention. Arching an eyebrow, he approached the cluster of people, careful not to get too close to the ones who were squeaking and jumping up and down. What were they— Ah, of course. Potter.

Apparently, he was trying to politely decline all the biscuits and presents that were being shoved at him.

“That’s very kind of you, Madam, truly, but I really can’t— Oh, thank you, but I shouldn’t—”

They didn’t even let him talk, Draco thought irritatedly. Four bloody years after the war, and people still lost their minds over him. Ugh.

“Potter,” he called, startling the witch beside him. Potter’s eyes instantly found his, a mixture of confusion and excitement in them. Fuck, why did he have to look at Draco like that? “Come here, come on, we need to go. Now!” He stretched out his arm to make room for Potter to walk through, not giving a damn about being scowled at.

Potter shook hands with a few people, thanked them over and over again, and even apologised, before he threw Draco a grateful look as they hurried down Diagon Alley.

“Thanks,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “People get a bit crazy around the holidays.”

“I noticed,” Draco said curtly. “You could have just told them to leave you alone.”

“I’m not very good at that,” Potter admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I noticed,” Draco repeated dryly.

“It’s just… so many people come to me and tell me their stories, how they survived the war, how they never stopped believing in me… Sure, there are a lot of crazy people too, but… I can’t just tell them to bugger off.”

“Of course you can.”

Potter sighed. “Believe me, I’ve lost my temper enough times to know how that ends. As long as they’re being friendly,” he shrugged, “it’s okay.”

Draco shook his head. Potter was such a goody two-shoes.

Diagon Alley was buzzing with people, all laden with shopping bags. Some stopped and stared as Draco and Potter walked past them. It was highly uncomfortable. Draco didn’t even know why he had pulled Potter away from those people. It irritated him, the way they practically mauled him but that was none of his business, was it? He hadn’t even thought about it, but now… now he was walking down Diagon Alley with Potter, who he had tried to stop thinking about since Blaise sent him that article. He still flinched whenever he thought about the way he had been looking at the prat in that picture. He didn’t even want to think about the ways Potter was probably going to tease him about it.

“Doing some last minute Christmas shopping?” Potter asked, peeking at Draco’s bag.

“Not exactly,” Draco replied, avoiding Potter’s gaze. “Just some new robes.”

“Ah,” Potter said. “Is there anywhere else you need to go?”

Draco hesitated, wondering if this was some kind of trap. “No. Actually, I was just on my way—”

“Good. How about we get a drink?”

Draco stopped, almost dropping his bag. A drink? With Potter? Was he serious?

“Why?” was the only thing he found himself capable of saying.

“Why not?” Potter shrugged.

“Because…” Draco didn’t know what else to say.

“Come on,” Potter said. “Let’s go to the Leaky Cauldron.”

Draco followed him silently, not sure whether to be excited or mortified. Bumping into Potter was one thing, spending more time with him than necessary, on the other hand, was very dangerous. Draco almost felt like a teenager again; insecure, angry, foolish. It wasn’t a good combination.

Tom showed them to a table and, as soon as they placed their orders with him, a torturous silence stretched between them.

“I really enjoyed the gala,” Potter said after a while. Draco cleared his throat and simply nodded. He refrained from pointing out that Potter had looked utterly uncomfortable the whole evening. “You never got back to me about another drink,” Potter added.

“What?” Draco spluttered.

“You know, I told you to owl me if you wanted to grab drinks.” He didn’t sound offended, which made Draco wonder why he was bringing it up at all.

“We’re having drinks now,” he pointed out. In all honesty, Draco didn’t remember that particular conversation. Apparently, there was a lot he didn’t remember about that night. But even if he had, he wouldn’t have owled Potter. Immediately.

“Yeah, but only because we bumped into each other.” Potter gave him a speculative glance. “Are you anti-social in general or didn’t you want to get drinks with me specifically?”

Draco suppressed the choking noise he had been about to make, pressing his lips into a tight line. Had Potter always been this blunt?

“I’m a busy person,” he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

“Here you go,” Tom said as he placed a butterbeer in front of Potter and a camomile tea in front of Draco. Potter eyed the tea for a second, before he grinned and took a sip of his butterbeer.

“Feeling nervous, Malfoy?”

Ugh, that cocky bastard!

“Maybe _this_ is why I didn’t want to get drinks with you,” Draco said, almost snapped, actually. “You’re still so full of yourself.”

Potter studied his butterbeer, not taking his eyes off it as he answered. “You’re not still hung up on the past, are you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco said, furrowing his brows.

“We’ve grown up,” Potter said with a shrug. “We talked about what happened.”

Indeed they had. Potter had practically forced Draco to talk to him after his trial, even though, or maybe especially because, he had refused to at first. Draco had felt too ashamed, too embarrassed, but also too angry to talk to Potter. It was just the icing on the cake that Potter, of all people, had been the one to save him. Again. And even though gratitude had been somewhere in the mix, it had mostly felt degrading.

As always, things had been complicated.

Draco hadn’t believed his ears when Potter had told him he didn’t hold a grudge against him. Sometimes, Draco almost felt like he had gotten off too easy. He hadn’t understood how Potter could forgive him for what he had done. How could Potter forgive him when Draco hadn’t forgiven himself? Sometimes, when he was feeling gloomy, he still asked himself that question.

“That doesn’t automatically mean everything’s forgotten,” Draco murmured, curling his fingers around his cup. His skin soaked up the warmth, calming him.

“Is that why you avoided me at the gala?” Potter asked. “Or why you’re avoiding looking at me right now?”

Draco’s eyes involuntarily snapped up to Potter’s. They were soft and warm, not at all what he had expected.

“I liked talking to you. Especially while you were in such a good mood.”

“Good mood?” Draco echoed. “I was drunk, Potter.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But it made you… a little less serious. I liked that.” The smile widened.

Fuck. What was going on? The few times he had bumped into Potter over the years had been nothing like this. Granted, Potter had been friendly but he had also been curt and aloof. Draco had gotten the impression Potter was doing what he thought was required of him. But this, Potter being openly nice to him, was a first. And it was horrible. It only made things worse.

“How come you’re not at work at two in the afternoon on a Monday?” Draco said after clearing his throat. “Are you already on holiday? I didn’t take you for the type to take a holiday at all.”

Something flickered across Potter’s face as he took another sip of his butterbeer. “Um, in a manner of speaking I’m on holiday, yes.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?”

“So… ominously.”

Potter sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I rarely talk about it to be honest.”

Draco studied him closely as his face twisted into something unreadable. He seemed to be considering something. When he finally spoke again, his tone was a lot gloomier.

“Ever since I quit Auror training—”

“You did what?” Draco blurted. “You quit— What?”

“Well, technically, I’m on sabbatical, but I think they know I’m not coming back.”

“But… why?” Draco asked, genuinely shocked.

Potter shrugged. “I didn’t like it.”

Draco wanted to snort and point out many people didn’t like their job. But Potter was in a position where he didn’t need to do anything he didn’t like, wasn't he? Or, maybe, he had so many obligations he secretly disliked, he made sure to get rid of the things he had control over.

“How did I not know about this?” Draco murmured, more to himself than to Potter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to send you a memo?” Potter said in an amused tone.

Draco immediately felt himself blush. “I meant…” He tried to collect himself, searching for the right words. “How come none of this was in the papers?”

“I made everyone keep their mouths shut,” Potter said. “I didn’t think it would work, but…” He shrugged again.

Draco studied his face, but hastily looked away when Potter’s eyes locked with his.

“Why are you telling me, then? How do you know I won’t go to the Prophet with this information?”

“I don’t,” Potter said.

“So… what, you don’t care?”

“No, that’s not it.”

Draco peeked at him when he didn’t continue.

“You know, I think it’s kind of endearing you kept up with me like that,” Potter said with a grin.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Draco said with a dismissive gesture, gulping down his too hot tea. He made a face as the liquid burnt his mouth and the embarrassment burnt his cheeks.

“Half of it is probably untrue, though,” Potter muttered. There was something in his voice that made Draco frown.

“What?”

“What they write about me in the papers. I wouldn’t know, I never read it. Not anymore.”

“I see.” Draco gave him a suspicious glance while Potter went back to studying the bottle in his hands. Did that mean he hadn’t seen their picture? Some of his friends must have shown him at least. But he hadn’t brought it up yet, which made Draco even more uncomfortable than if he had been teased about it. Ugh, the prat was so bloody irritating!

Potter suddenly cleared his throat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“So, how are you going to spend Christmas? Are you going to visit your mum in France?”

“Oh,” Draco said, grateful for the change in topic, but also slightly pleased Potter seemed to remember little details about his family. “Yes, I’m going to stay with her over the holidays. What about you?”

“Same as every year,” Potter said, as if Draco was supposed to know what that meant. Of course, Draco did know.

“Isn’t it weird, seeing your ex-girlfriend?” Draco asked in a seemingly innocent tone. He had read about Potter’s break up with the She-Weasel and had often wondered if they had gotten back together without the papers knowing about it.

“Oh, not at all,” Potter said. “Besides, she’s dating someone new now, so it’s all good.”

“I see,” Draco said, trying to mask his sudden nervousness. “So she doesn’t mind you bringing your new girlfriend over to her house for Christmas?”

“Who said anything about a new girlfriend?” Potter asked, seemingly caught off guard.

Draco stared at him, willing his heartbeat to slow down. ‘What about a boyfriend?’ he wanted to ask. How many hours, days and months he had spent, wondering if Potter might like blokes. And here it was, the perfect opportunity to find out.

Before he could ask any more questions, however, Tom came by to see if they needed anything else, distracting them both and leading the conversation into another direction.

If the circumstances had been different, Draco might have been tempted to admit that spending time with Potter wasn’t that bad after all. Objectively. But, the thing was, it was torture. He was so aware of every word, every glance they exchanged, trying not to let show how many thoughts raced through his head. Honestly, it was exhausting.

Draco insisted on getting the tab and after they stepped outside, he stared at Potter’s outstretched hand.

“What?” Potter asked, stupidly in Draco’s opinion.

Rolling his eyes, he shook the other man’s hand.

“We should do that again sometime,” Potter added.

“Sure,” Draco replied, his voice sounding indifferent. He knew that was just an empty phrase, something you said to someone you secretly hope to never see again. He let go of Potter’s hand and turned away, intent on going home as quickly as possible.

“Oi, Malfoy,” he heard Potter call. Draco briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he threw a questioning look over his shoulder. Potter was smiling at him. Shyly. Sweet Merlin!

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said. Draco arched an eyebrow in confusion. “And I don’t have a boyfriend, either.”

Wait. What? Why was Potter telling him this? Seriously, _why_ was Potter telling him this? Was it just to tease him? Draco would have bet anything the prat was taken. But he was single? Potter was single?

_And I don’t have a boyfriend, either._

Was he implying… he swung both ways? Merlin’s pants!

Suddenly, Draco wished Potter hadn’t said anything at all. He was single. He liked blokes…

Fuck.

That was even worse! It made everything _so much worse_. Being jealous came easy to Draco, he could have handled that. Given the circumstances, he would have even welcomed that. What he couldn’t handle was being presented with a possibility, no matter how small, but knowing it would never end the way he wanted it to.

“Okay,” Draco said warily and turned away again.

“Wait, are _you_ seeing someone?” Potter called after him.

Draco snorted, which almost turned into a laugh. “Merry Christmas, Potter,” he said, before he Apparated back to the Manor.


	3. It makes me so mad

**Friday, 3 January 2003**

“You need to get out more.”

“I was literally just out of the country, Blaise.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Blaise said with a wave of his hand. “You’ve become so…”

“What?” Draco snapped.

“Boring,” Blaise said with a semi-disgusted look on his face.

“Hate to break it to you, Draco,” Pansy chimed in, picking up a scone and breaking it apart, “but he’s right.” She wrinkled her nose as she scanned the little serving containers Draco had placed on the table. “Why is raspberry always the only jam in your house?”

“You know it’s my fav— Pansy!”

“What, nobody else is eating the scones,” she said as she dipped it into the jam.

“What would your mother say?” Blaise quipped. 

“I don’t give a damn. And don’t change the subject, Draco! All you ever do these days is hole yourself up in the Manor with a bunch of paperwork. It’s  _ so _ boring,” she said.

“Excuse me for having a job,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not a job,” Pansy remarked. “It would be if you earned money. But you don’t. I don’t even know why you’re doing it.”

“I’m not going to explain it to you again,” Draco shot back. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

“Come out with us tomorrow night,” Blaise proposed, a suspicious glint in his eyes. 

“Definitely not,” Draco said, picking at his croissant.

“Told ya,” Pansy said, smirking at Blaise. She traced the rim of her teacup with one of her perfectly manicured fingers. “Merlin forbid something interferes with his daily moping. His life has become so mundane.”

Blaise sniggered while Draco grit his teeth. He hated when Pansy talked about him as if he wasn’t there. But he knew exactly why she was doing it. She was trying to irritate him, provoke him, so he’d say yes to their proposal just to prove them wrong. Well, she could try all she wanted.

“It’s just drinks, Draco,” Blaise said.

“What’s the big deal? We’re having drinks right now,” Draco pointed out.

“Tea doesn’t count,” Pansy said, shaking her head. “And it definitely doesn’t count if you don’t leave the house.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Blaise grinned.

“I doubt that.” Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Boring,” Pansy said in a sing-song voice, pursing her lips as she took a sip of tea. 

“Draco,” Blaise began, making Draco groan. “Just come for one drink. If you don’t like it—”

“Let him be, Blaise,” Pansy interjected. “It’s no use if he doesn’t want to.”

Blaise scowled at Pansy, muttering “Traitor” under his breath. 

“Finally,” Draco said with a smirk.

“Honestly, you’d probably be uncomfortable there anyway,” Pansy said in a bored tone.

“Why?”

“We’re meeting Finnigan and Thomas,” she said, completely nonchalant. “And they said something about a few other people they’d invite, too.”

“You’re meeting Finnigan and Thomas? For drinks?” Draco asked, incredulously. “But… why?”

“Surprisingly, they’re pretty fun to be around,” Blaise shrugged.

“But… since when are you hanging out with  _ them _ ?”

“We don’t. We ran into each other on New Year’s and thought it might be fun to do it again.”

Draco looked at his friends in bewilderment. What the fuck had happened while he had been in France? He had been gone for a week,  _ a week _ , and now his friends were in liaison with two former Gryffindors? 

“Who else is coming?” Draco asked suspiciously.

“I’m not sure,” Pansy said. “But I’m guessing they’ll bring some of their mates.”

_ Some of their mates.  _ Did that include Potter? Draco had no idea if he was still close with Finnigan and Thomas. All the more reason not to go, he decided. The last thing he needed right now was seeing Potter in his natural habitat; relaxed, amongst his friends, making jokes, laughing… 

“Is something wrong?” Blaise asked, and Draco realised he’d been frowning. He shook his head and continued picking at his croissant. He shouldn’t go. He really shouldn’t. But… what if Blaise flirted with Potter again? What if Potter got so sloshed, he’d suddenly be receptive to Blaise’s wooing? Draco could just picture it; the two of them sitting so close their thighs were touching, Blaise’s hand on Potter’s knee under the table, Blaise whispering something in Potter’s ear, making him chuckle, Blaise leaning in at the end of the night, when they were outside, saying good night… 

“One drink,” Draco snapped. “Just one drink.”

Blaise and Pansy exchanged a look, their expressions turning irritatingly smug.

“Told ya,” Pansy said, winking at Blaise, who started sniggering into his tea.

It took a second for Draco to realise what had just happened. 

“I hate you both,” he growled, stuffing the rest of the croissant into his mouth, ignoring their laughter.

They had totally played him.

  
  


**Saturday, 4  January 2003**

“And then the goat just ran away!”

Draco scowled as some of Blaise’s firewhiskey landed on his trousers. He didn’t seem to notice as he was seized with mad laughter, slapping his knee. Everyone was laughing, Draco noticed. He had no idea what Thomas’ story had been about, he hadn’t listened to a word. Instead, his eyes had been glued to the door. It was after ten and Potter still hadn’t shown up. Was he even coming? Draco didn’t want to ask, but felt a mixture of anticipation, disappointment and fury. Granger and Weasley were here, so where the fuck was Potter?

“Are you not satisfied with your wine?” 

Draco jerked and turned to his left, blinking at Luna.

“Um, no, it’s fine. Why?”

“Because you keep scowling at it,” she said with a smile. Draco made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat and took a swig.

“I guess I’ve had better,” he said.

“You want to try this?” She held up her deep purple drink, which was steaming. A bunch of fruit had been placed on the rim, almost concealing the colourful straw.

“No, thanks,” Draco said, making a face.

“You might like it,” she smiled. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Draco restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He had a feeling she would keep pestering him unless he gave it a go. Wrinkling his nose, he bent forward to take the straw between his lips. Huh. It wasn’t so bad. Not bad at all, actually. His expression must have given him away, since Luna beamed at him.

“See,” she said. Draco almost smiled before the door opened and his eyes darted over to the person who had just stepped in. Not Potter. Draco gritted his teeth, berating himself for being so foolish. This was not good. He was a grown man. A successful, accomplished grown man. So how come Harry bloody Potter made him feel like a little boy whose candy had just been taken away from him? This was  _ so  _ not good.

“I’ll get the next round,” he announced, rising from his seat.

“I’ll join you,” Luna said.

Great, Draco thought. Apparently, the pestering was about to continue. They made their way to the bar together with Draco only glancing at the door once. 

“Are you afraid someone you don’t like will show up?” Luna asked. Draco blinked, feeling caught but also unsure how to answer that. “It’s okay,” she continued. “You don’t have to like everyone, you know.”

Draco snorted and turned his attention to the bartender. While the bloke was busy preparing their drinks, Draco peered over at Luna, who was smiling at him. This girl was very hard to figure out. He didn’t have to like everyone? Nobody here liked  _ him _ . Except for Blaise and Pansy. And on some days, he wasn’t even sure they really did. 

“I heard something interesting about you the other day,” Luna said. Draco froze. Uh-oh. This couldn’t be good. “A friend of mine works at a non-profit organisation here in London.” UH-OH! “I think you know her. Her name’s Stacey. She said—”

“She must have confused me with somebody else,” Draco said hastily. 

Luna cocked her head. “I… didn’t even say she saw you.”

“Oh.” Damn it! 

Luna leaned closer to him and dropped her voice. “Do you not want anyone to know?” she asked. Draco stayed silent, pressing his lips together. “That’s okay,” she said. “But I really like what you’re doing. I think that’s a very good way to redeem yourself.”

Draco made a choking sound. Was this girl for real? She didn’t seem to mean it in a sarcastic way. 

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Before he could stop himself, Draco laughed. “No, nothing’s wrong.” He drummed his fingers on the bar as he watched Luna play with a strand of her hair. “Why are you here?” he asked after a while. 

“Going out with friends is nice,” she shrugged. “I never—”

“No,” he interrupted her. “I mean, why did you come with me?”

“Oh, I thought you might like some company,” she said and smiled again. Something about her smile made Draco nervous. It was too genuine, too sweet, too understanding. “You looked kind of sad.”

“Sad?” Draco echoed, raising an eyebrow. Why would she think that? “I’m not—”

His eyes involuntarily flickered over to the door, which had just been opened again. His breath caught in his throat as everything around him suddenly seemed to be happening in slow motion. Potter was smiling, his eyes lighting up as he caught sight of his friends. He raked his fingers through his hair, which was sprinkled with snow. Draco’s eyes widened. His cheeks were red from the cold, and he was wrapped in a thick black wool coat that made him look far more sophisticated than Draco knew he was.

Draco’s eyes followed his every move as he squeezed Weasley’s shoulder and went on to greet the rest of the group. Thank Merlin Draco wasn’t there right now. He quickly turned back to Luna, who had a curious look on her face. 

“I need to go to the loo,” Draco announced and hurried away. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, his reflection staring back at him, flushed and a little startled. He should go home now. Nothing good would come out of going back to that table. He’d only be torturing himself. No, his mind corrected,  _ Potter  _ would be torturing him. All of this was Potter’s fault. That bastard! How dare he! 

Draco’s eyes narrowed as he willed his cheeks to pale again. No, he wouldn’t give Potter that much power. He would go out there and prove he could stand up to him. Maybe he’d even find Potter wasn’t that great at all. Because, really, he wasn’t. He was just an annoying prat, with his annoying hair, his annoying eyes, his annoying voice, his annoying dimples, his annoying— Ugh! 

Draco squared his shoulders as he walked back to the table. Granger was telling a story, it appeared. 

“Potter,” Draco said, forcing his voice to sound low. A few heads turned, including Potter’s. He was looking at Draco as if he had been waiting to see him. Momentarily taken aback, Draco cleared his throat before he spoke again. “You’re in my seat,” he said flatly.

“Oh,” Potter replied, eloquently, making no move to get up. He looked around, took out his wand and flicked it once. Draco gasped as he was suddenly knocked off his feet, only to find himself sitting in a chair, wedged between Luna and Potter. “There you go,” the prat said, grinning, before he turned his attention back to Granger. 

What the fuck! How was Draco supposed to act dignified when  _ this  _ was what he had to put up with?

He automatically reached for his wine, but stopped when he noticed there were two drinks in front of him.

“I ordered you one as well,” Luna said, pointing at the purple drink. “But I didn’t want to cancel the wine, in case you wanted to scowl a little more. You seem to like doing that.”

Baffled, Draco looked at the drink, then at Luna. He couldn’t tell if she was making fun of him. She took her own glass and raised it.

“Cheers,” she said, smiling at him. Slowly, Draco mimicked her pose, finally clinking their glasses together. He peeked sideways as he drank, wrinkling his nose as he spotted the beer in front of Potter. The prat really had no taste. Figures. 

He tried to fidget as little as possible, concentrating on the conversations, which was hard; Gryffindors are loud. The other thing that was rather distracting was Blaise, drumming his fingers against his glass while he was smiling lazily at Potter. The two of them were having their own conversation, with Blaise touching Potter’s arm every now and then. Draco wanted to hex them. He was pretty sure his cheeks were a flaming red again, but he could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“How come you’re still in training?” Blaise asked, shifting in his seat and moving closer to Potter. “You should be Head Auror by now.”

“Yeah, well…” Potter said, evasively. For a moment, Draco felt incredibly smug for knowing the truth.

“I bet the training is hard,” Blaise purred. “You must have quite the stamina.” A wicked grin was plastered on his face as he dragged a finger from Potter’s shoulder down his arm. Draco almost crushed the glass in his hand at the sight. Potter let out a hearty laugh but, to Draco’s relief, he leaned away from Blaise. Unfortunately, that led him to move closer to Draco. In one swift motion, that almost seemed absentminded, he even slung his arm around the back of Draco’s chair. Holy… shit.

Potter wasn’t touching him, but Draco’s back suddenly felt too warm. He restrained from squirming and emptied his glass instead. Blaise was still grinning; hell, the bastard looked far too pleased with himself as he continued bombarding Potter with questions. Draco tried to ignore them, balling his hands into fists under the table until he could feel his nails cutting into his skin.

“That is so fascinating,” Blaise said, dreamily. “I’ve always admired your wand-work. We all know how endowed you are with it.”

Something menacing and savage roared inside Draco’s chest. He didn’t realise he was literally shaking with rage, until Potter suddenly turned around to him. Draco felt a warm hand on his shoulder as Potter’s expression turned from amused to concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asked, squeezing Draco’s shoulder. Draco jumped, as if a stinging hex had just been flung at him. He leaned away from Potter’s touch, realising much too late that he had leaned into Potter’s body, as if he were trying to snuggle into his chest. Oh, damn it.

“I’m marvellous,” he said through gritted teeth. “No need to get handsy, Potter.”

Potter blinked, letting go of Draco’s shoulder immediately. But he didn’t remove his arm from the back of his chair. Draco wanted to shove it away, but refrained. He reminded himself not to give Potter so much power over him. But, Merlin, if a simple touch on the shoulder had that effect on him, what would happen if— No! Not now. Wait, no, not ever! He would never think about that. 

As Potter reached for his drink, his arm was suddenly pressed against Draco’s back, making him jump yet again. Potter obviously chose to ignore it as he took a swig and, irritatingly, stayed in that position. Draco was  _ this  _ close to stomping on the prat’s foot, only distracted by the tingling that trickled down his spine. His heart was racing as if he had just been running from a hippogriff, his head spinning from the alcohol. 

When Blaise started laughing at something Potter had just said, and nudged him, Draco finally had enough. He started to get up to go to the loo again, but a hand on his thigh startled him into plopping down. He looked at the little hand, the dark blue, glittery nails and pale skin, before his eyes snapped up to Luna’s face.

“Blaise,” she said, “maybe you and I should switch places. I don’t think Draco is too fond of you flirting with Harry.”

Draco froze, every muscle in his body clenching. He stared at Luna, incredulously, feeling like he had just been punched in the face. His cheeks had never felt so hot. 

“Is that so?” Blaise said, evidently amused. “Well, we better keep our little dragon from spitting fire. We wouldn’t want anybody to get hurt, now would we?”

Draco heard Blaise pushing back his chair as he watched Luna rise from hers and step around him. When Blaise sat down next to him, he patted Draco’s knee with a toothy grin.

“There you go, Draco,” he said. “You can relax now.”

Oh, if only looks could kill. Unfortunately, Blaise seemed nowhere near threatened and simply sniggered while Draco glowered at him. He wanted to turn away from the bastard, but that would mean he would have to look at Potter, which really wasn’t an appealing alternative. At all. Fuck everything! What in Salazar’s name was he supposed to do now?

Potter shifted beside him, rubbing his arm against Draco’s back in the process. Oh, for the love of—

“Is that true?” Potter whispered, his hot breath tickling Draco’s ear. “Do you…” He let the rest of the sentence dangling between them, feeding the blazing fire in the pit of Draco’s stomach.

“What!” Draco snapped, finally turning around to him. He was momentarily taken aback by Potter’s expression, which was amused, but he also looked… curious? “You’re so full of yourself.”

“What? I didn’t— Luna was the one who said— I—”

“Merlin, Potter, don’t strain yourself. Your head is going to explode.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek as Potter regarded him with a strange expression. He leaned back in his seat and started drumming his fingers on Draco’s chair; it sent waves of shock through his body. It was almost too much, the anticipation of Potter’s fingers accidentally missing the chair and brushing against Draco instead… 

“You do look tense,” Potter remarked. 

“Well, you look like a chump!” Smooth, Draco, real smooth. 

“Are we really back to petty insults?” Potter asked. “Man, you were a lot more companionable when we were at lunch.”

Draco stiffened, especially when he saw Blaise’s face lighting up like a Christmas tree. 

“Ooooh, really?” he smirked. “Tell us more! You guys had lunch together? When?”

“Two weeks ago,” Potter said.

“Well, well, well,” Blaise said, gazing at Draco. “You never said anything.”

“It wasn’t worth mentioning,” Draco drawled, refusing to look at Potter.

“You were a lot nicer then, Malfoy,” Potter muttered.

“Hey, why don’t you start calling him Draco?” Blaise smirked. “Since, you know, you guys already went on a date and everything.” 

“It wasn’t a date!”

“Oh, shush, you lucky bastard.”

Draco wanted to grab Blaise and shake him. What did he think he was doing?

“Um… I mean, I could— If you—”

Draco turned to face Potter, who was suddenly rather flustered.

“I wouldn’t mind calling you by your first name,” he said.

Instinctively, Draco rolled his eyes. “Do I look like I care?”

“Alright… Draco.”

It was as if fireworks had just gone off somewhere around his midriff and the heat was turning his insides into warm, molten chocolate. 

Fuck. 

“Whatever, Potter.”

“You… err— You can also call me Harry… if you want.”

Draco snorted, masking his nervousness. “Don’t count on it,  _ Potter _ ,” he said in his most superior voice, while he pressed his palms against his thighs to keep his hands from shaking. 

“He’ll come around,” Blaise said with a dismissive gesture. “He’s a bit timid.”

Potter snorted into his beer and started coughing. “Right,” he spluttered. 

“I swear to Salazar, Potter, if you get beer on my trousers, I’ll make you regret ever setting foot into this bar,” Draco growled. 

Potter looked him up and down for a moment before he turned to Blaise. “Yeah, he’s a delicate flower,” he said, keeping his face impassive. 

Blaise chuckled and elbowed Draco in the ribs. “Lucky bastard,” he repeated.

“Stop calling me that,” Draco hissed. It didn’t escape his notice that the corners of Potter’s mouth curved upwards, even though he was trying to hide it. He resumed drumming his fingers on Draco’s chair, his thumb swiping over Draco’s shoulder blade, seemingly by accident. Draco couldn’t help but twitch at the contact. Shit, why had he decided to wear the light blue dress shirt? It was so thin, it practically felt like Potter’s thumb was touching his bare skin.

“Hey, by the way,” Potter said, leaning closer. “How was Christmas?”

“It was fine,” Draco said, a little breathless. The fewer words he used, the better.

“How’s your mother?”

“Fine.”

“How was the food?”

“Fine.”

“Any good presents?”

“Fine.”

“What?”

“Oh, um… Good— Good presents. The presents were good,” Draco stammered, reaching for his wine. Fuck Potter and his thumb! It was absolutely inexcusable to make a Malfoy stammer like this! Oh, and speaking of which, fuck Potter and his stupid, ravishing smile as well! 

Draco gulped down his wine, hoping the alcohol would hit him quickly. His best chance to get through this evening without further embarrassment was to divert Potter. Let  _ him  _ talk, Draco thought. 

“How was your Christmas?” he asked, avoiding his gaze.

“It was fine,” Potter grinned. Fortunately for him, before Draco could hex him on the spot, he decided to elaborate. “It was really great, actually. Christmas at the Burrow is always special. Mrs Weasley got a bit cross, though. Ron and George spiked her Christmas punch without her knowing. But honestly,” he chuckled, “there’s nothing like Ron and George singing Christmas carols while they’re completely pissed.”

“I imagine it was quite the scene,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose.

“You have no idea,” Potter laughed. Merlin, it was so good to see him laugh. He leaned closer, whispering in Draco’s ear. “He took off his jumper and George drew baubles on his nipples and a reindeer on his stomach. His bellybutton was the nose. It was kind of disturbing.”

Draco tried really hard not to laugh, but the image Potter had just described was just too ridiculous. His eyes darted over to Weasley and within mere seconds, his entire body was shaking with laughter.

“Oh really?” he wheezed. “Merlin, I hope you took some pictures as future blackmail material.”

Potter sniggered beside him, his breath warm on Draco’s neck. Draco couldn’t decide if that was what was suddenly making him dizzy or the alcohol.

“Oi,” Weasley called from across the table. “Are you guys talking about me?”

“No, Weasley,” Draco spluttered. “We’re laughing at you.”

Weasley glowered at him, then at Potter. “What did you tell him?”

“Just some stuff that happened on Christmas,” Potter shrugged. 

Weasley promptly jutted his chin forward and huffed. “Whatever, ferret,” he mumbled. Draco would have retaliated, if Potter hadn’t chosen this exact moment to start drawing circles on Draco’s shoulder with his finger. Fucking Mother of Merlin! 

“How did you spend New Year’s?” Potter asked, sipping at his beer. Draco blinked. His brain was working slower than usual.

“Oh, Mother and I were invited to a friend’s party.”

“Ah,” Potter said. “Anyone special there? Someone you kissed at midnight, perhaps?”

Draco opened his mouth, only to close it again, without being able to say anything. His gaze flicked down to Potter’s lips. There was a bit of foam above his upper lip from his beer. Oh, how much Draco wanted to lick it. He hated beer, but you always had to make sacrifices in life, right? His fingers twitched with the desire to reach up and touch Potter’s face, his legs trembling at the thought of leaning into his body… It only got worse when his eyes locked with Potter’s. There was something about the way he was looking at Draco that made his breath hitch. 

“So, did you?” Potter asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Huh?”

“Kiss anybody at midnight?”

“Oh.” Draco swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “No?” He had no idea why his answer sounded like a question. His mind was too far gone, apparently.

Potter’s scrutinising gaze intensified. “Good.”

Good? What? Why?

“Yeah… good,” Draco breathed, oblivious to the fact that he was slowly but surely leaning forward.

“Merlin, get a room, you two,” he suddenly heard Pansy call. At that, Draco nearly jumped out of his seat, immediately drawing back and smoothing down his shirt. Heat coursed through him, leaving him flustered and confused. He sneaked a peek at Potter, who looked completely undisturbed as he sipped at his beer. Internally grumbling, Draco narrowed his eyes. Damn Potter! Was he even realising how much he affected Draco? Apparently not. 

Shortly after, Potter excused himself, and Draco finally felt like he could breathe again. 

“Psst, Draco,” Pansy hissed. “Want to make a bet?”

Draco arched an eyebrow at her devious smile and the way she was curling her finger under her chin.

“I’m good,” he declined.

“But you haven’t even heard it yet.”

“I don’t need to.”

“What if it involves getting into Potter’s pants?” she smirked. Draco shot her a dark look.

“Hey, you’re not making any bets involving… Harry’s pants,” Weasley said. “Especially not you,” he added, pointing at Draco.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked, incredulously.

“Let’s just— No bets, okay?” Granger said, her hands outstretched between her boyfriend and Draco, as if she was trying to prevent them from jumping out of their seats and start a duel. 

“Whatever,” Draco muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Aw, don’t pout, Draco. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of chances to get into Potter’s pants,” Blaise sniggered, patting Draco’s shoulder. Salazar’s balls! This evening had been a mistake. He should have just stayed at home… 

“What did I miss?” Potter asked as he sat down again.

“Nothing,” Draco said hastily. He turned to Potter, trying to make sure nobody else caught his attention and filled him in. His effort was redundant, he realised, since Potter’s eyes were already fixed on him.

“Here, I brought you another,” he said, offering Draco the wine in his hand.

“I really shouldn’t,” Draco said, immediately wrenching the glass out of Potter’s grip and taking a swig.

“O-kay,” Potter said, sounding sceptical and amused at the same time. “I think you should drink this on the side.” He placed a glass of water in front of Draco, as if it wasn’t a big deal. And… of course it wasn’t. It was just water. And yet, Draco stared at it in wonder. 

“What are you now, my chaperone?” he said, unable to withhold a teasing smile.

“You look like you need one,” Potter quipped. “Although, ‘chaperone’ isn’t quite what I was going for.”

“Oh?” Draco’s head was swimming. Drinking and being this close to Potter really wasn’t a good combination. 

“Being a chaperone is too… restricting.” Potter flashed him an irritatingly cute smile.

“Don’t do that,” Draco said, furrowing his brows.

“What am I doing?” Potter asked, puzzled.

“Don’t go around, showing people your dimples as if it’s nothing.”

Potter blinked. “I— What?”

Ugh, why was Potter so dense?

“Your dimples,” Draco said, emphatically. He jabbed a finger at Potter’s cheek, poking it repeatedly. 

“Ow, Draco,” Potter half-heartedly protested, his lips stretching into another smile. 

“No dimples,” Draco said, defiantly. 

“I didn’t realise my dimples are so offending,” Potter sniggered.

“They are,” Draco said, scowling stubbornly. “Very.”

“Is there anything else about me that’s offending you?” Potter asked with a strange twinkle in his eyes.

Draco looked him up and down, trying to choose his words carefully. “Honestly, Potter, you should know by now that basically everything about you is offending,” he drawled. It wasn’t untrue.

“I think your eyes are what’s offending him the most,” Blaise unhelpfully chipped in. “And probably your hair. And…” He feigned reflectiveness before he shrugged and leaned back. “Yeah, no, he’s right. It’s everything.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Potter grinned. 

Draco hastily reached for his wine. Was it possible Potter had finally learned to grasp the concept of subtext? Nah. Draco was probably worrying over nothing. 

“You know what  _ I _ find offending?” Potter said in a low voice. Draco shot him a wary look. “That shirt.”

If Draco hated one thing, it was being flustered.

“Unsurprising,” he said, trying to sound like he didn’t care. “One look at  _ your  _ clothes says everything.”

It really did. The beige jumper he was wearing was the most boring thing Draco had ever seen. At least it complimented his skin tone. And it did bring out the colour of his eyes. A bit. Draco had also noticed that the jumper was a little too big for Potter, but he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his forearms, his lovely dark skin… The grey Muggle jeans also weren’t as tight as Draco liked his own trousers, and, horrifyingly, they were ripped at the knees. 

“You don’t approve?” Potter asked, not sounding one bit like he wanted anyone’s approval. He leaned back in his chair and put one leg over the other, his ankle resting on his knee. And then, he put his arm back on Draco’s chair. 

“You don’t need my approval,” Draco snapped, trying to sit still, even though the warmth, radiating from Potter’s arm, was making him want to scream.

“No, I don’t,” Potter said, resuming to drum his fingers against the chair. “But I’d like to know what you think.”

Draco snorted. “Honestly, I couldn’t care less.”

Potter let out a sigh. “I’m trying to be nice here, Draco, but you’re making it extremely hard.”

“Oh, I bet he is,” Blaise chuckled. That bastard!

Draco lowered his head and pressed the back of his hand against his forehead to show how fed up with Blaise he was, but also to hide the crimson flames he could feel on his cheeks.

“Is it me being nice?” Potter whispered.  
  
“What?”

“Is me being nice what’s making you so uncomfortable?”

Draco’s head snapped up again. “What makes you think I’m uncomfortable? I’m perfectly at ease.”

“Right,” Potter said, obviously not convinced. Draco forced his body to relax. He even sagged down in his seat a little. The corner of Potter’s mouth twitched as he watched Draco slide down lower and lower. “Okay, okay, you’re perfectly at ease,” he laughed.

Draco couldn’t keep his lips from stretching into a smile as well. Right before he slipped off the chair completely, he hoisted himself up. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and, for a second, he wondered if Potter knew how intoxicated he really was. He was giving him a strange look.

“What?” Draco asked.

“Um… nothing,” Potter said. His leg twitched and it took Draco almost ten fucking seconds until he asked himself why he could  _ feel  _ Potter’s leg twitch. He looked down at the appalling grey jeans. Wait. Why was his hand on those jeans? WAIT! WHY was his hand ON POTTER’S THIGH? Fuck! Draco wanted to die right there and then. What should he do now? Withdraw his hand, obviously. But snatching it away as though he’d been burnt seemed a) childish and b) too revealing. Yes, he would slowly, very very slowly, slide his hand down, as if it was deliberate and— Wait, no. WHAT WAS HE DOING? Fuck, and now Potter was looking at him as though… as though…

“Do you need help with that?” a low voice breathed against Draco’s ear. Draco jumped.

“Blaise, you fucking bastard,” he bellowed, and he probably would have hexed him on the spot, if… well, if his hand hadn’t been pressed against Potter’s crotch. “Oh fuck,” Draco hissed, snatching his hand away. His eyes inadvertently locked with Potter’s. “S—Sorry,” Draco mumbled, suddenly feeling numb. 

He had just touched Potter’s cock. POTTER’S COCK! HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN!

“It was an accident,” Potter said, and it didn’t escape Draco’s notice that his voice sounded raspier than before. “Unless… it wasn’t.”

As though those words had triggered something in Draco’s body, he immediately started to cough. “In your dreams, Potter,” he choked. He heard Blaise chuckle beside him.

“Pfft, as if, Malfoy,” Potter retorted, squaring his shoulders. 

As the coughing fit slowly ceased, embarrassment crashed down on him as if the whole ceiling had just collapsed. Fuck. His hand had been on Potter’s cock! Maybe this was an unmistakable sign to put an end to this misery of an evening.

“I have to go,” Draco announced, grabbing his cloak. 

“Draco,” Potter called, which Draco chose to ignore. As soon as he started walking, he discovered, unfortunately, he was staggering. Bugger. 

He stepped out into the dark, the cold air hitting him in the face like a sobering charm. He fumbled inside his cloak for his wand, momentarily distracted when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Draco!”

Ugh, what did Potter want now?

“Let me take you home,” he said. Draco’s mind reeled as the words pierced him. They were innocent enough, and yet, his traitorous mind supplied him with images of Potter, grabbing his hand, Apparating them to the Manor and pushing him against a wall while he begged Draco to touch him again. For real this time. 

“I’m fine, Potter! Go back in,” he snapped.

“What if you splinch yourself?” Potter insisted.

“I won’t,” Draco replied flatly. 

“Come on, let me—”

“I’m fine, Potter,” he said, and with a desperate flick of his wand he fled the scene. He landed, rather ungainly, facedown on his bed.


	4. Sink and drown and die

**Sunday, 5 January 2003**

Draco was just about to go downstairs when he felt the wards of the Manor warning him about an intruder. Who the fuck was coming here, unannounced, at this hour, on a Sunday? It couldn’t be Blaise or Pansy, the wards didn’t react to them.

Cursing under his breath, Draco hurried downstairs and opened the door. He was met with the sight of a startled Potter, holding several bags.

“What— What are you doing here?” Draco asked. He watched as Potter’s eyes quickly darted down his body and back up, his mouth falling open.

“You— You’re wearing a dressing gown.”

Draco knew he was blushing, and mentally swore. The embarrassment from last night hadn’t even worn off yet. Leave it to Potter to add a little extra, just in case.

“Yes, well, and whose fault is that?” he snapped. “Thanks to you, showing up here completely unannounced, I didn’t have time to get dressed. Properly,” he added, hastily. Potter didn’t need to know he wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “Which brings us back to my question, Potter. What are you doing here?”

“Ah, I just— I wanted to make sure you got home okay last night.” He looked sheepish. “I brought breakfast,” he said, almost sounding apologetic.

“You brought breakfast,” Draco echoed.

“Yeah, um… Can I come in?”

Too baffled to say anything, Draco just stared at him. This wasn’t a good idea. But… Potter had come all this way… and Draco was a bit hungry. How much harm could breakfast do… right? Fuck, his self-discipline really sucked these days.

Regarding Potter warily, he slowly stepped aside. His mind immediately screamed at him that he could not, under any circumstances, have breakfast with Potter, on a Sunday, in his home, practically naked! Well, too late for that, he thought as Potter stepped into the dining room, put down the bags and murmured a spell. A whole bunch of tableware came flying from the kitchen and placed itself neatly on the table.

“Please, make yourself at home,” Draco muttered sarcastically as the bags started to unpack themselves.

“I would, if you tell me where the coffee machine is,” Potter grinned, shrugging off his coat. “You do have a coffee machine, right?”

Draco rolled his eyes and wordlessly stomped off into the kitchen. Potter followed him, which was, in Draco’s opinion, highly unnecessary.

It was weird, having Potter in his kitchen. He seemed to share the sentiment. At least he started fidgeting with his jumper while peering at Draco from under his lashes. Correction, he was peering at Draco’s bare legs. Draco coughed quietly, trying not to feel too flustered.

“Huh, you haven’t changed anything,” Potter said, looking around.

“What?"

“Oh, I don’t know, I somehow expected you to— Nevermind.”

Draco flicked his wand to get the coffee machine going and narrowed his eyes at Potter.

“You’ve never been in my kitchen.”

“Actually, I have,” Potter said. “I was part of the Auror team that, err, made sure this place was, err, save to live in. You know, after your trial.”

“I didn’t know that,” Draco said, taken aback. Huh. Maybe that would explain why Potter had waltzed in here without even batting an eyelash. Draco would have thought he would be more… traumatised by the Manor. Draco still was. Sometimes. “But you were barely training to be an Auror then.”

“Yeah, well…” Potter shrugged. “Robards thought it might be a good idea for me to tag along. I wasn’t dying to get back in here but it was almost therapeutic, getting rid of all the dark magic that was still lingering in the corners, so to speak.”

“I see,” Draco said flatly. Potter seemed to catch his irritation.

“I thought about telling you,” he said.

“Why didn’t you?” Draco asked, raising an eyebrow. “We bumped into each other often enough.”

“How was I supposed to bring that up?”

Draco had to admit, Potter had always been pants at making conversation. And if he was being honest, he probably wouldn’t have let Potter explain everything properly. It would have hurt his pride too much. It still did, a little bit.

“I was surprised you wanted to stay here,” Potter said. “I would have thought you’d get a new place. One without so many… memories.”

Draco inwardly groaned. “It’s one of the few things the Ministry let me keep,” he said, almost defensively. “Were you involved in those decisions, too?”

Potter slowly shook his head. “I wasn’t.”

“I see,” Draco repeated, because, honestly, he had no idea what else to say. This conversation was awkward and unpleasant and far from how he wanted to spend his Sunday morning. Casting a quick glance at the coffee machine, he turned around and marched back to the dining room, Potter at his heels. Draco watched him closely, and warily, as he sat down opposite of him. Neither of them commented on the fact that Draco hadn’t chosen to sit at the head of the table. He couldn’t. Aside from the fact that the Dark Lord had sat there while he had made Malfoy Manor his headquarters, it was his father’s seat. And as much as Draco had distanced himself from him by now, a part of him still couldn’t shake him completely. Maybe he never would.

Not wanting to ponder on that, especially with Potter right in front of him, he quickly summoned two napkins. Of course Potter had forgotten about that. The heathen. His eyes scanned the food Potter had brought, irritation flaring up in him when he noticed the prat had actually managed to pick up a lot of his favourites. Huffing, he grabbed a croissant and a few raspberries and put them on his plate.

“So, how come you’re having breakfast with me? Was everyone else unavailable? Are you that desperate for company, Potter?” Draco inwardly cringed. He had meant to insult Potter, not flaunt his self-loathing.

Potter shrugged. “I told you, I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah, except, I don’t buy it,” Draco said, biting into the croissant. “Why are you really here?”

Potter started fidgeting with his jumper again, making him look very suspicious. “We, err, we didn’t really get to talk last night. I mean, we did, but… not really. Not enough.”

Draco’s eyes widened. _Not enough._ What was Potter on about?

“You want to talk,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

“Nothing,” Potter shrugged. “And everything.”

Draco’s brow rose even higher at that. “You have enough friends, Potter. You don’t need any more.”

“You can never have enough friends. True friends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He gave him a speculative glance. “Trouble in Gryffindor-paradise?”

“No, no,” Potter laughed with a dismissive gesture. “My friends are great, it’s just…” He bit his lip again. “Most of them are a package deal, these days. They’re… They all have partners.”

“I see,” Draco said, annoyance ringing loudly in his voice.

“Oh, I’m not here because I’m lonely or anything,” Potter said, hastily. “Nor do I think you are.”

Somehow, Draco didn’t believe him. But he said nothing while Potter continued.

“It just sucks sometimes, you know, being stuck between being around couples all the time and people losing their shit over me. There’s not very much in between.”

“So…” Draco deliberately left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air. Potter seemed to pick up on that.

“So, you’ve always treated me… well, I’d like to say like a normal person, but that’s not exactly true, is it? But you never treated me like something I couldn’t live up to and you never walked on eggshells around me, either. I like that.”

Draco stared at him. While Potter had talked, two coffee cups had floated in from the kitchen and placed themselves in front of him and Potter. Draco quickly put two tablespoons of sugar in his, thinking hard while he picked it up and started stirring.

“Are you saying you liked that I was treating you like shit?” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that some kind of weird kink?”

Potter made a sound that was something between choking and laughing. “I don’t have a weird kink,” he said, and then added under his breath, “At least, that’s not one of them.”

Draco felt a prickle on the back of his neck which he tried very hard to ignore. Slowly, he took a deep breath, hoping Potter wouldn’t notice. “What exactly are you saying, then?”

“I guess I’m saying… I feel like I don’t have to pretend with you. You know, I… can just… be me.”

Draco almost dropped his cup. It seemed he had just lost control over his bodily functions. His eyes started watering as he stared at Potter without blinking, because he couldn’t move a single muscle. He noticed how the now slightly blurry, black haired figure in front of him started fidgeting again. Draco would have savoured it, if he wasn’t feeling so utterly ruffled.

What Potter had just said… It was the biggest compliment he had ever been given. Sort of. No, actually, it was. Still, Draco wasn’t entirely sure how Potter had meant it. Surely, Draco was reading far too much into it. This inexplicable… infatuation with Potter was making it unnecessarily hard to distinguish between actual spoken words and what he secretly wanted to hear.

He suddenly realised he was probably expected to give some sort of answer or comment. But he had no idea what to say.

_‘Great. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m going to hurl whenever you’re anywhere near me and my heart wants to jump out of my chest and into yours, but don’t mind me. You keep being yourself.’_

He desperately tried to keep a straight face, slowly lifting the cup to his lips. Whatever he was going to say now, he had to divert Potter, but also himself if he was being honest, from the thunderstorm that was raging inside of him.

“So you didn’t _play_ dumb, is what you’re telling me,” he drawled. “You’re being your true, imbecile self.”

Potter blinked at him like a barn owl. “What?”

Draco forced himself to smirk. “Exactly. But it’s alright, we’ll just add ‘compassion for the dense’ to my growing list of outstanding traits.”

Potter blinked some more, before he rolled his eyes and his lips stretched into a lopsided smile. “Clearly, you haven’t lost your charming modesty,” he snorted.

Sweet Salazar, Draco had made him smile. This was not helping. He put down the cup, his hands slightly shaking, and popped two raspberries into his mouth. He peeked over at Potter’s plate and frowned. Why had he bothered to bring breakfast if he wasn’t going to eat anything?

“Why aren’t you eating?” he asked. “Surely, you haven’t brought all this just for me?”

“Oh.” Potter bit his lip and suddenly looked… weird. Almost insecure.

“Go on,” Draco said, leaning forward and nudging his plate closer to him. Potter’s eyes immediately darted… where? Oh. Draco cleared his throat and rearranged his dressing gown, covering his exposed collarbone. “You’re making me nervous, sitting there without eating anything.” Well, at least half of that sentence was true.

Potter slowly nodded and reached across the table for the scrambled eggs. Draco noticed how unenthusiastic he looked, apparently lost in thought. He noticed too late that Potter was peeking right back at him and quickly turned his attention to his own plate.

“You just admitted I make you nervous,” Potter said, and Draco could practically hear his grin.

He bit his tongue, hoping he wasn’t blushing. If only Potter knew. “I’ll also admit you’re giving me a headache. You seem to be awfully happy about causing bad reactions.”

“Feeling nervous isn’t always bad.”

Before Draco could stop himself, his eyes darted up to Potter’s. For one fleeting moment, Draco thought he saw something there, something that made him inhale sharply.

“Speaking of your _outstanding traits_ ,” Potter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It was kinda impolite, the way you ran off last night.”

“I did not run off,” Draco said defensively.

“Either way, I thought it was a shame you didn’t stay longer.”

Draco couldn’t help but feel suspicious. This felt like a trap. But he couldn’t see where Potter was going with this, yet; he only felt sure the goal was to embarrass him. And post-cock-gate-Draco really wasn’t up for any more embarrassment.

“We’re not talking about last night,” he said, already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks.

“Relax, Draco,” Potter chuckled. “I know you didn’t touch me up intentionally.”

True. It was true. Still, Draco felt like he was hiding a dirty little secret. Which, technically, he was.

“Good, as long as we’re clear on that,” he said, grabbing more raspberries. “I would never touch you intentionally.” Even though Draco had always taken great pride in being an excellent liar, he wasn’t sure if his face was betraying him just then. Judging from Potter’s look, at least, something wasn’t right.

“Of course,” he muttered, poking at his eggs. Draco cleared his throat. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly shifted, making Potter’s presence more uncomfortable. If that was even possible. A part of Draco just wanted to kick him out. Another part wanted to cling to him and never let go. Never let it be said Draco Malfoy can’t compromise.

“So,” he said, sending his and Potter’s cup back into the kitchen for a refill with a wave of his hand, “with what kind of momentous activities are you occupying yourself, now that you’re not the Ministry’s lapdog anymore?”

Potter let out a humourless laugh. “Mainly enjoying that I’m not the Ministry’s lapdog anymore. Even though it wasn’t like that.”

“Oh?”

The two cups came floating back and Potter grabbed his as swiftly and elegantly as he always had with the Snitch. Maybe it was a testament of adulthood that Draco could finally admit that without grinding his teeth. Although he was still convinced the word ‘elegant’ had no place anywhere near Potter.

Draco watched as he drank his coffee pensively, his expression turning more serious.

“After the war—”

Oh no.

“—I didn’t really know what to do. Becoming an Auror… it was something that seemed right at the time, you know, when everything was falling apart around me. The thing is, everything kept falling apart, but there was no more war. I had no idea how to deal with that.” Potter put down his cup and from what Draco could see, he started wringing his hands in his lap, his eyes fixed on the table. “As soon as I started training, I realised I wasn’t going to be happy there. But… I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“Disappoint?” Draco echoed, furrowing his brows. “As if you could do anything to—”

“That’s exactly the point,” Potter intercepted. “People have this idea of me, this image they created, based on what I did to defeat Voldemort, when in reality…” Potter pressed his lips together. It looked painful. “No matter what I do, it will always be a disappointment. It will never be good enough. Like, can you imagine what would happen if I started telling people I’m not becoming an Auror anymore? The public would go mad! And then there’s other people, like McGonagall.” He let out a sigh. “In fifth year, she vowed to do everything in her power to help me get that job, and she did. What do you think she’s going to say if I told her all her efforts were for nothing? But… I just couldn’t go on like that.”

“So you’re basically lying to everybody?”

Potter’s face twisted and it took a moment before he slowly nodded.

“Do Granger and Weasley know about this?” Draco asked.

“They… They know I’m on sabbatical. We talked about it a few times, and they were really understanding, but…”

“You’re worried you’ll disappoint them, too?”

Potter looked up, his face paler than usual. “It’s not like that with them. I know they’ll support me no matter what. I just— It’s so hard, explaining it to them.”

The following silence felt so pregnant with meaning, it was stifling. Potter, opening up like that, showing Draco all his vulnerabilities… He had no idea how to process that.

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked carefully.

“You asked,” Potter shrugged.

“Not really.”

“Look, Draco, it’s not like I enjoy talking about these things, I just— The others… They don’t really get it. I mean, we all lost people, so they understand the grief, but… I just felt lost after the war, and my friends… they didn’t really understand what it was like for me.”

“Oh?” Was Potter implying Draco would understand? He didn’t know how he felt about that.

“Yeah,” Potter murmured. “They didn’t seem to have that much trouble, finding their place. Meanwhile, I’m still struggling every day to just… keep it together.”

Draco shifted in his seat. This conversation felt too meaningful for Potter to have it with him of all people. But, even though he didn’t like it, he had to admit, he did get what Potter was talking about.

“It seems to me, an awfully big part of your life involves pleasing others.” And boy did Draco know what that was like. Even now, with his father in Azkaban, he often caught himself wondering if he would approve of Draco’s actions. It always took a lot to remind himself he wasn’t supposed to care about that anymore.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Potter murmured. “I can’t help it. It’s always been that way.”

“You died for fuck’s sake,” Draco said, irritation flaring up in him. “You died to save all of our arses. You don’t owe anybody anything. If anything, the rest of the world owes you!”

Judging from the look on Potter’s face, he hadn’t expected Draco to say something like that. Honestly, Draco hadn’t expected himself to say something like that. But it was true, wasn’t it? Potter had saved bloody everyone. And now he still felt like he had to do what people expected of him?

Draco sighed, dreading what he was about to say next. “You do realise it wouldn’t be selfish of you to live the life you want for yourself, right?”

Potter’s eyes widened.

“You’re not doing anybody any favours, being all tortured and broken up about it.” As he reached for his cup, Draco made sure his eyes didn’t leave Potter’s. It was harder than he had anticipated. He was being a hypocrite. Because that was exactly what he was doing, but, apparently, he was better at hiding it than Potter. But it wasn’t like he wasn’t working on it. He was trying to be better. It just took time. Apparently.

“I… I haven’t thought of it that way,” Potter said, astonishment written all over his face.

“Well, as my mother always says, you can’t make other people happy if you aren’t truly happy yourself.”

Potter looked like he wanted to say something, but he stayed silent and simply nodded. Draco inwardly snorted. How had this turned into a Mind Healing session? It was utterly absurd.

“Are you happy?” Potter suddenly asked. Draco’s mouth dropped open involuntarily. His instincts told him to reply with something snarky. But… after Potter’s honesty, baring his insecurities, it just didn’t feel right.

“I don’t know,” Draco sighed. “I think I’m happier than I was right after the war.”

He didn’t want to get into too many details. Just because Potter felt comfortable sharing his secrets with Draco, didn’t mean he had to do the same.

“You ever think about getting a job?” Potter asked.

Draco snorted. “As if anyone would employ me.”

“I don’t think it’s like that anymore.”

Draco shrugged. “Be that as it may, I can’t really see myself working for someone. I have my family’s inheritance, which is about the only thing the Ministry didn’t take away from me. I made some investments, so honestly, I don’t need to work.”

Potter seemed to ponder that. “Yeah, but… don’t you want… a purpose? In life?”

Draco sneered, acting as though that was preposterous. Potter didn’t need to know he had been struggling with that for years. Luckily, he had found something to give him purpose.

“I’m not as restless as you are,” he said. “I can very well sit back and enjoy living the life that was intended for me as the heir of a pure-blood family.”

“Somehow, I don’t believe you,” Potter said, a small smile starting to form on his lips. “Maybe one day I’ll get it out of you.”

Draco threw his head back, snorting, suddenly feeling caught.

“Hey,” Potter added, nonchalant, “how about we go out for drinks again?”

Draco blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Drinks. Again?” Huh. That… was not what Draco had expected. “I honestly see no reason for that,” he said slowly.

“Um, because it’s fun?” Potter said. He almost sounded like Blaise. “And so we can get to know each other better.”

“Potter, we’ve known each other for years, there’s no—”

“Do we really, though?” Potter interrupted.

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, tell Potter to bugger off, but… he knew what Potter meant and if he was being honest, the offer was rather intriguing. But could he really risk it? There was a reason he had mostly avoided Potter all those years.

“You want to have another heart to heart?” he said, teasingly. Potter shrugged, as if he wanted to say ‘Why not?’ “I’m not a big fan of crowds,” Draco said, tapping a finger against his cup. “And your Gryffindor friends aren’t exactly—”

“Oh, no. I was actually thinking it’d be just you and me.”

Draco stopped moving, his mouth going dry.

_Just you and me._

Was— Was this— Was Potter asking— No, that wasn’t possible. The more plausible explanation was that he simply needed a drinking buddy.

“You free tonight?” Potter asked.

Draco willed his heartbeat to slow down as he found Potter’s gaze and held it. “I guess I could spare an hour,” he drawled. He tried hard not to react to Potter’s grin, but failed. He could feel the corners of his mouth lifting upwards without his permission.

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile at me before,” Potter said quietly. Before the smile died on Draco’s lips, Potter leaned forward. “I like it.”

It was as though an erumpent had suddenly been let loose in Draco’s head, stomping on every brain cell that had survived Potter’s ridiculous revelation.

“Alright, I think I’d better get going now,” Potter said, already rising from his seat. “Can I use your floo?”

Draco nodded, numbly. He lead the way to the parlour and wordlessly gestured to the fireplace.

“Right.” Potter paused. “I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”

Draco nodded again. It was ridiculous, really, that Potter had the ability to render him speechless like that. He watched Potter as he took a pinch of floo powder and stepped into the fireplace.

“See you then,” he said. And right before he vanished, he smiled.

* * *

  
How Potter had managed to turn ‘Drinks, just you and me’ into ‘Dinner, just you and me’, without Draco noticing, was a real mystery. He had said something along the lines of, “Would you mind if we get something to eat first? I’m really hungry.”

Clearly, Potter had planned this all along, since he seemed to have made reservations at the Muggle restaurant he had hauled Draco to. The only question was: Why? He didn’t seem particularly hungry now, pushing his steak from left to right on his plate, instead of eating it.

“Is it not good?” Draco asked. He watched carefully as Potter bit his lip. He almost looked like a child, who had been asked to eat all their vegetables. His mouth was in a tight line while he slowly cut into the steak. The bite he took was so tiny, Draco wondered why he bothered chewing. Drinking in his strained expression, Draco decided not to comment on it and turned his attention to his own meal instead. Still, Potter’s behaviour was… odd. He had barely said a word since they had entered the restaurant.

They continued eating in silence and when the waiter came to clear the table, Draco noticed that Potter had barely eaten half of his meal.

“So, where are we going for drinks?” Draco asked as they stepped out of the restaurant.

“Actually…” Potter hesitated, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m— I’m not feeling so good.”

“Oh.”

“Would you mind if we go another time?”

Draco kept his features impassive, even though disappointment bubbled up inside him. “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Potter muttered and turned on his heels. “I’ll owl you!”

Draco looked after him, flabbergasted. What the fuck had just happened? It had been Potter’s idea to go out! So why did Draco feel like he had just been dumped? Had Potter changed his mind about being friends? Had Draco done something? And since when was he questioning himself like a thirteen-year-old? Ugh, Potter could go fuck himself. This was just another reason why Draco should have stayed away from him.

  
  
  
**Friday, 10 January 2003**

_Draco, I’m sorry about the other night._   
_Drinks tonight?_   
_HP_

Fuming, Draco scowled at the letter. Five days he hadn’t heard a word from Potter, and now this? The prat couldn’t be serious! Huffing, Draco grabbed his quill and scribbled down his answer.

_Can’t tonight._

He tied the parchment to the owl’s foot and watched as it spread its wings and took off. Merely half an hour later, the same owl was sitting on his desk again, hooting cheerfully.

_Tomorrow then?_

Draco gritted his teeth. That cocky bastard.

_I already have plans tomorrow._

After he made sure the owl was on its way, he trudged into the kitchen to make some tea. Even without being physically present, Potter was getting on his nerves. But, honestly, he should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it. Of course the owl came back _again_.

_The whole day?_

This was getting ridiculous.

_Yes, the whole day._

Grabbing a book, Draco settled down on one of the sofas in the parlour, trying _not_ to think about Potter. More than once, however, he caught himself peeking out the window, for any sign of the owl returning. After an hour, he gave up. He slammed the book shut and started pacing the room. Who did Potter think he was? Did he really think Draco would just answer to his beck and call?

His heart skipped a beat when the owl he had been waiting for glided through the window. He practically wrenched the parchment off the owl’s foot and unfolded it.

_Are you playing hard to get?_

Draco’s mouth fell open. How dare he! How dare he make the right assumption!

Draco stomped into his study, grabbed his quill and started writing.

_~~That would imply~~  
_

_~~Don’t get any ideas.~~  
_

_~~Yes.~~  
_

_No._

There, short and simple. Feeling pleased with himself, he went back to the parlour. He halted when something strange caught his eyes. Why were there suddenly two owls blinking at him? Sceptically, he went over to the new owl. His eyes widened when he recognised Potter’s messy handwriting.

_Can I bring you breakfast again on Sunday?_

Draco smirked. “Getting impatient, are we?” he murmured to himself. As much as he wanted Potter to suffer, he really wanted to see him again. He threw away the previous letter and scribbled down two new ones. He tied them to the owls’ feet, unable to suppress a grin.

_If you must._

_9am, Potter. Don’t be late._

 

**Sunday, 12 January 2003**

As Draco was getting ready for bed, his gaze fell on the little golden ball he had put on his bedside table. He felt a rush of warmth spread through him as he remembered Potter’s smile when he had given it to him. Apparently, it was some sort of Muggle chocolate. Potter had stuck two wings, made out of paper, into it, making it look like a snitch. Honestly, Draco had no idea what to make of it. He didn’t like how giddy it made him feel. And yet, he couldn’t help grinning at it while his head hit the pillow. Potter was full of surprises, and even though he shouldn’t, Draco couldn’t stop wondering what else he might have in store.


	5. A little too strong

**Tuesday, 14 January 2003**

“Where is he? WHERE IS HE?”

“Sir, please calm—”

“I’M GOING TO CALM DOWN WHEN YOU TELL ME WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HE IS!” Draco slammed his fist on the counter, glaring at the nurse. “I need to see him. Right now. Nobody is telling me anything. I don’t even know how bad his injuries are!”

“Sir, it’s not—”

“Draco?”

He whirled around, completely taken aback by the soft green eyes blinking at him.

“P—Potter! I— I thought…” Relief and irritation flooded through him. What the bloody hell was going on? “I ran into Weasley and he said you were at St Mungo’s.”

“Yeah, to get a check-up.”

Draco’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“I’m technically still part of the Auror program. It’s mandatory to get a check-up every six months.”

Draco balled his hands into fists. Weasley! That buffoon! He should have been more specific. Then again, maybe Draco had overreacted just a little bit. He hadn’t even thought twice before running off to the hospital, frantic and panicked. If he had stopped to think about it, he would have realised Weasley wouldn’t have been in Diagon Alley but at Potter’s bedside if his condition had been serious. Bugger!

“Did you think I was hurt?”

Draco bit his lip. “No?”

“So you just like yelling at people?” Once again, Potter looked far too amused. 

Draco clicked his tongue before he turned to the nurse. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. 

She regarded him closely, her gaze flickering back and forth between him and Potter. “It’s alright. But if you would have let me talk, I could have told you Mr Potter wasn’t injured.”

Draco made a face, feeling foolish for embarrassing himself, yet again, in front of Potter.

“Hey, since you’re here,” Potter grinned, “I need to run some errands. Care to join me?” 

Draco just stared at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Potter was actually glad he had come to St Mungo’s. Maybe it was the confusion over that elusive thought, mixed with the relief to see Potter in one piece, that prompted him to nod.

“Great,” Potter beamed. “Although, I think we might need to transfigure your cloak into a coat.”  
  
“Why?”

“We’re going into Muggle London.”

“What?”

Before Draco could protest, Potter pushed him down the corridor and out the door. He had the audacity to look chipper and  _ whistle  _ the whole way to the shop he hauled Draco to. When they stepped inside, Draco glanced around.

“Is this some kind of Madam Malkin’s for Muggles?” he asked.

“If you want to put it that way,” Potter smiled. Draco had a suspicion he would never get used to that, Potter smiling at him. He turned away, eyeing one of the mannequins as a woman approached them.

“Hello,” the woman said in a cheerful tone. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Yeah,” Potter said. “I’m looking for a suit.”

“Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Not really.”

“Do you need it for a specific occasion?”

“Yeah, um, a wedding,” Potter said, his eyes darting over to Draco.

“Oh, congratulations,” the woman said with a big smile on her face. 

“Oh, no, no,” Potter said hastily. “I’m not— We’re not— It’s not our— I’m just a guest there.”

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” the woman said, looking embarrassed while she brought up a hand to cover her mouth. “Would you like me to get a few options?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Potter said. It didn’t escape Draco’s notice that he looked a little flushed.

As soon as the saleswoman had vanished, he quietly cleared his throat, willing his voice to sound only mildly interested as he asked, “Who’s getting married?” He watched Potter fidget with the sleeve of his coat.

“Cho.”

“Cho?” Draco echoed, cocking his head. “Chang? Cho Chang is getting married?”

“Yeah, to a Muggle. They decided to have a Muggle wedding.”

While Draco processed that, he was pleased to find no hint of regret or anything indicating resentment in Potter’s voice. Everybody knew he had drooled after her in fourth year. Their short-lived romance a year later had been the talk of the school back then, and Draco still itched to know why they had broken up.

“Hey,” Potter said quietly. “If, um… Are you— I mean, err—”

“What?” Potter stammering like that made Draco edgy. He knew nothing good was about to follow when Potter was showing signs of nervousness. 

“If you’re not doing anything that day… um… That is to say— Err, you want to come?”

“What?” Draco gawked at him. Had Potter really just asked him what Draco thought he had asked? “To the wedding? With you?”

“Yes?” Potter said in an usually squeaky tone.

“Oh.” Heat immediately rushed to his cheeks. Potter, that blockhead! Didn’t he know what inviting someone to a wedding implied? Of course he didn’t. Besides, Draco knew the only reason Potter had just asked him was because he was short of options. He had said all of his friends had partners and he probably didn’t want to show up there alone or with someone he barely knew. So, really, he was asking Draco because he had nobody else. How charming. But, seriously, no matter how desperate Draco might have been for Potter’s attention - Ugh! - he still had his dignity. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But… wasn’t that what he was doing right now? Accepting the fact that Potter spent time with him because he apparently had nobody else to turn to? Was going to a wedding with him for the very same reason really that much worse?

“When’s the wedding?” Draco asked, keeping his face impassive.

“May 24th.”

“Potter, that’s four months from now,” Draco spluttered. So much for being impassive.

“So?”

So? Potter really was the densest person to ever walk this earth. 

When the saleswoman returned with a selection of suits and showed Potter the way to the changing booths, he paused before he went in.

“Just think about it. It might be fun to go together,” he said with a smile.

After he vanished behind the curtain, Draco sat down on the padded, cream-coloured bench in front of the big mirror. He knew he’d have to make a decision sooner or later. Could he really stomach where this might be going? Could he really be friends with Potter? Oh Merlin, was it too late? Were they friends already? But… what if… what if Potter started dating someone? Draco’s head started spinning as a sudden surge of jealousy hit him. If Potter was already dating someone, it would be different. But it would be such a slap in the face if he found someone new, someone who made him happy, after spending so much time with Draco, after getting to know him. Draco knew he was being irrational. There was no way Potter would ever actually want to date him. Aside from the fact that he couldn’t, because Draco—

“Okay, here I come,” Potter called.

Boy, it was a good thing Draco was sitting down. As soon as Potter pushed the curtain aside and stepped out of the changing booth, Draco’s jaw hit the floor. He had thought Potter looked good wearing formal robes, but looking at him now, clad in a blue suit, he was forced to reconsider. 

“I look ridiculous, don’t I?” Potter asked, looking utterly uncomfortable. Draco could only stare at him with his mouth hanging open. He looked absolutely breathtaking. 

“Ridiculous is one way to describe it,” Draco muttered.  _ Ridiculously handsome _ , he added in his mind. 

Potter made a face and looked down on himself. “I’ll try on another one,” he said, closing the curtain again. Instinctively, Draco clutched at his chest, as if that would prompt his heartbeat to slow down. Merlin, Potter would be the death of him. That notion seemed to be confirmed when he stepped out again, this time wearing a grey suit. “What do you think?” 

Draco cleared his throat, acting as though he was completely unaffected. “It’s not horrible,” he murmured.

“Isn’t it too tight?” Potter asked. 

Honestly, the only thing that was too tight right now were Draco’s trousers. He quickly crossed his legs and folded his arms over them, hoping he looked nonchalant. 

“Try another one,” he said, hoping Potter would oblige and give Draco another chance to calm his nerves. As Potter vanished behind the curtain once more, Draco saw the saleswoman approaching him.

“I took the liberty of picking one for you as well,” she said, offering Draco the suit in her arms.

“That’s alright, I don’t—”

“That’s a great idea,” Potter called from the changing booth. “You’ll need one if you’re coming as my— If you’re going to the wedding with me.”

Draco stopped moving as the rest of Potter’s unspoken sentence echoed in his mind. Had he really almost just said ‘if you’re coming as my date’? Draco quietly choked, unbelievably grateful Potter couldn’t see him right now. It had probably just been a stupid slip. But either way, Draco felt flustered as he wordlessly took the suit from the saleswoman and darted into the changing booth next to Potter’s.

He quickly slipped out of his clothes, grumbling under his breath, and put on the dark blue suit. The saleswoman had added a matching tie to it, which Draco looped around his neck. He was just about to reach for his wand, stashed away in his transfigured cloak, when someone tugged at his curtain.

“What’s taking so long?” Potter asked impatiently.

“Just give me a moment,” Draco answered, fumbling for his wand.

“Are you wearing the suit?” Potter edged on.

“I am,” Draco sighed. “But— Hey!” Draco whirled around as Potter drew back the curtain. “You can’t just barge in here,” he snapped.

Potter shrugged. “You said you were wearing the suit.” Draco made a face, but let himself be tugged outside, suddenly feeling a bit shy. He had never worn a Muggle suit before. 

His breath caught in his throat when Potter put his hands on Draco’s shoulder and started eyeing him intently. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. When he cleared his throat and took a step back, Draco wanted to groan. 

“You look…” Potter’s gaze became more intense before he cleared his throat again. “You look really good.”

Somehow, Draco got the impression Potter had wanted to say something else.

“You… don’t look too bad yourself,” Draco said, which was such an understatement, he almost cringed. Potter looked fabulous. The black suit, paired with a bow tie and a silky white dress shirt made him look like he had just stepped out of a painting. 

Potter gave him a lopsided smile that stopped Draco’s heart.

“You need help with that?” Potter asked, pointing at the tie that still hung loosely around Draco’s neck.

“Actually,” Draco grumbled, “I was just about to get my wand, so I could tie it, when you dragged me out here.” 

“Wait,” Potter said, frowning, “you can only do it with magic?”

“Why in Merlin’s name should I know how to do it without magic?” Draco retorted, pursing his lips. 

Potter shook his head and let out a little laugh. “Come here,” he said, but didn’t wait for Draco to oblige and stepped closer instead.

Draco went rigid when Potter reached up and grabbed the tie, brushing his fingers against Draco’s neck in the process. By accident. Surely, it was by accident. Also, did he have to stand so close? Draco could feel his breath on his skin, he could smell him… Fuck. This was torture!

“There you go,” Potter said, looking pleased with himself. They both turned to look at themselves in the mirror and Draco had to admit, the suit wasn’t that bad. He liked the colour, the way the dark blue made his pale appearance look stately.

He peeked over at Potter’s reflection, only to find him avert his eyes hastily. 

“I think you should buy the suit,” Potter said while pulling at his jacket as if he was trying to get out some invisible wrinkles. 

Draco slowly nodded, too confused to speak properly. 

When he put the suit in his wardrobe that evening, he stared at it for longer than was probably normal. But he couldn’t help it. Not only did that suit look completely out of place, next to his other clothes, it also  _ felt  _ out of place. Because that suit seemed to be holding a promise; a promise Draco was fairly sure Potter wouldn’t be able to keep.

  
  
**  
Saturday, 18 January 2003**

“I brought you something,” Potter said as he stepped out of the fireplace. Draco peeked over and saw he was holding a bottle of Ogden’s finest.

“At least you have the sense to come bearing gifts,” he drawled, not bothering to get out of his armchair and turning his attention back to his book.

“Well, I thought since we emptied that fancy bottle of wine the other night, I’d make up for it.”

“Fancy,” Draco snorted. Potter really had no idea. “That wine costs 190 Galleons.”

Potter stared at him. “What? Why would you pay 190 Galleons for a bottle of wine? That’s insane!”

Draco pinched the bridge of nose and shook his head. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t understand, even if I explained it to you.” 

“Aw, you know how much I like it when you’re being all snooty and contemptuous,” Potter sniggered. He walked over to Draco, swinging one leg onto the armrest. Draco inched away from him, eyeing him sceptically.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for you to get us glasses,” Potter shrugged.

“You know where they are,” Draco retorted. “Don’t act like you haven’t been here almost every day for the last week. You probably know this place better than me by now.”

Potter grinned and jumped off the armrest. Draco wanted to point out he could have just summoned the glasses, but he kept his mouth shut as his eyes wandered down to Potter’s backside. It was a shame he seemed to prefer loose clothing. Then again, it left so much more room for Draco’s imagination, which, on second thought, wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Daydreaming about Potter was pretty much all he was doing these days. Spending more time with him, it seemed, only amplified his desire. And even though it got harder to deal with it, he thought he was doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Well, he definitely should have known better. Three glasses in, Potter was getting emotional again. Apparently, his mother’s birthday was coming up. She would have turned 43. Potter didn’t need to tell Draco how much he missed his parents. He could hear the sorrow and the yearning in his voice, in every shuddering breath. Draco couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable or confused. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around Potter and comfort him. He settled for a slightly trembling hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, avoiding looking at Potter. He was absolutely sure his heart wouldn’t be able to take what he would find in Potter’s eyes.

“Me too,” Potter said hoarsely. And suddenly, Draco felt a warm hand on his. “What do you think our lives would be like if Voldemort had never existed?”

Draco wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a rhetorical question. Probably, since Potter continued talking without waiting for an answer.

“You know, a week before the trials, they gave me your file.”

Draco stopped breathing. He hadn’t known that. Oh Merlin! That probably meant Potter had read all the transcripts of his questionings. Had they also made notes about how Draco had broken down in tears? How he had tried to fight the Veritaserum, screaming, because he didn’t want to relive every horrible detail of the last few years while a bunch of strangers were scrutinising him?

“Honestly, I had to take a few breaks. I couldn’t read it all at once.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “I always suspected it must have been horrible for you, being a Death Eater, but… What they did to you—”

“Potter—” Draco snatched his hand away, his face twisting. He really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to talk about this.

“Sorry,” Potter mumbled. Draco could feel his eyes on him, the sympathy that was probably shining brightly in them. “But I think it’s remarkable how you made it through that and became the person you are today.”

Draco let out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, a pompous git as you like to put it.”

“You know I’m just teasing. You seem content, that’s what I’m trying to—”

“I have nightmares,” Draco blurted. “Not as often as I used to but—” As soon as the words had left his lips, he wished he could take them back. He always tried so hard to not let anybody see how much he was still hurting, how damaged he was. He didn’t like how his brain seemed to ignore that particular precaution, seemed to be completely shutting down in Potter’s presence. 

“I get them, too,” Potter said quietly. “It’s really not fair, is it? Voldemort is gone, but the battle isn’t over.”

Draco said nothing, his throat quickly closing up. 

“But I guess we’re trying, right?” Draco felt Potter shift beside him and saw him grab the firewhiskey out of the corner of his eyes. “Another one?”

Wordlessly, Draco handed Potter his glass. Hopefully, the alcohol would make this talk easier. Or better yet, it would lead to a different topic entirely, a happier one. Draco should have known he should be careful what to wish for. Half of that bottle later, their conversation had turned into a dangerous balancing act for him.

“How in Merlin’s name were you able to keep that a secret?” he shrieked, outraged. Potter giggled. He actually giggled!

“Believe me, it was hard work. We never went out in public together,” Potter said with a sigh. “Ultimately, it was too much pressure. We were both unhappy, so we ended it.”

Draco shook his head and took another sip. “I cannot  _ believe  _ you dated Oliver Wood! For almost two years! Without anyone knowing!”

“Well, to be fair, we didn’t see each other that often. He was always travelling and training like a maniac.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Shocking.” He frowned when something else occurred to him. “So you only date former Gryffindors?” 

Potter, the prat, looked amused. “That’s just a coincidence. I’ve dated non-Gryffindors, too.”

“Let me guess, they were Hufflepuffs. You wouldn’t be able to keep up with a Ravenclaw, let alone a Slytherin.”

“Is that a challenge, Draco?” Potter laughed.

“Please, Potter, you wouldn’t be able to handle me.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

Draco tried to fight down the heat he felt on his cheeks. Was Potter… Was he flirting with him? No, it couldn’t be.

“I think we’d even make a better match than Oliver and I did,” Potter continued. Draco almost choked. “Oliver and I, we never talked like this. Sometimes, it felt like it was just about sex. For him, at least.”

This time, Draco choked for real and started to beat his chest repeatedly with his fist. He put down his glass and leaned his head against the sofa. How he and Potter had ended up sitting on the floor was a complete mystery. As was why they had started talking about Potter’s relationships. It wasn’t like Draco had asked him about it. Or had he? He really couldn’t remember.

“What was he like?” Draco murmured, furrowing his brows at how numb his lips felt.  
  
“In bed?” Potter asked, laughing.

“Yeah.” No, wait, that’s not what he had wanted to say.

“Well, the few times we actually did it in a bed—” Oh, for Merlin’s sake! “—were quite nice.”

Nice? Was that code for awful?

“He could be… gentle if he wanted to. Most of the time, he was pretty aggressive, though. Good aggressive,” he added when Draco opened his mouth. 

“How is aggressive good?” he asked. He had wanted it to sound disapproving; instead, he sounded intrigued. 

Potter studied his glass, a small smile forming on his lips. “He was always so impatient. He ripped a dozen of my jumpers and nearly all of my trousers.” He chuckled. “And he always left lovebites all over my body.”

Draco gulped.

“He’d also grab my hair when he fucked me from behind.”

Sweet Salazar! The images in Draco’s mind were not helping.

“One time, we were doing it in the shower and I needed to go to St Mungo’s, because I dislocated my shoulder.”

Draco inwardly groaned. The thought of Potter, wet, pushed against the tiles, moaning and begging for more… 

“That sounds horrible,” Draco said, hastily, bending his knees to hide the sudden bulge in his trousers. He quickly emptied his glass, the firewhiskey burning his throat. “Is that how you like it?” he blurted.

“You mean being rough? Or me taking a cock up my arse?” Potter laughed. Mesmerised by the sound, Draco simply nodded. That made Potter laugh even more. “Sure, I like it rough sometimes. Both really depend on the situation, though.” His face turned more serious when his eyes found Draco’s. “Or the person I’m with.”

Overwhelmed was a kind way to describe how those words made Draco feel. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Without knowing what he was doing, he inched closer to Potter, until their shoulders were touching. Bad, very bad idea. 

Potter’s lips parted and he let out a shaky breath. His gaze was intense. Too intense. And yet, Draco couldn’t look away. Heat was coiling in the pit of his stomach, making him squirm. It only got worse when Potter pressed his shoulder more firmly against Draco’s. Oh no. They were drunk. Surely, Potter had no idea what he was doing. If he did, he wouldn’t be sitting this close to Draco, staring — Salazar’s balls! — staring at his mouth. All that talk about having sex with Wood had probably turned him on enough to shut down his brain. Draco needed to think of something. Now.

“Um, how many people have you been with?” he asked quickly, leaning away.

“A few,” Potter said, evasively. “What about you?”

Fuck. What now?

“I— I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh Merlin, that many?” Potter quipped. “Come on, it can’t be worse than me having a threesome with Oliver and Ginny.”

“What?” Draco’s jaw dropped open. “You seriously had a threesome with two exes? That doesn’t sound healthy.”

Potter shrugged. “It wasn’t as spectacular as one might think. But they’re together now, so I guess something good came out of it.”

“Weasley and Wood?” He had heard rumours about that. 

“Come on, now you tell me about the wildest thing you’ve done.” Potter gave him an expectant look.

“Um…” Making coffee this morning? Sleeping naked? Constantly wanking to the thought of tousled black hair and forest green eyes?

“You…” Potter furrowed his brows. “You aren’t—”

Oh no.

“Draco,” he said, straightening up. “You’ve had sex before, right?”

Oh, bugger. Draco wordlessly summoned the firewhiskey and avoided Potter’s gaze as he poured it into his glass.

“Oh.”

Yes. Oh. 

“Is it because you’re a pure-blood?”

Draco cringed. As much as he had tried to detach himself from the many things his father had taught him, there were still a few he had found himself unable to ignore. 

It might have seemed archaic, but it was the only thing Draco knew. Besides, there was a difference between hating Muggles and upholding reasonable traditions. Well, okay, maybe not  _ that  _ reasonable. But still.

“There’s nothing wrong with waiting, Potter,” he finally snapped, his cheeks burning.

“Of course not,” Potter said, sounding startled. “But you aren’t— I mean… Are you waiting until marriage?”

That question raised so many red flags, Draco didn’t even know how to react.

“You know what, it’s late, you should probably go home,” Draco said, standing up. The room immediately started spinning. Still, he could see Potter blinking at him.

“I— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You didn’t. But I’m tired. You should go.”

Slowly, Potter got up. He hesitated, fidgeting with his jumper. 

“We’re still… okay, right?”

Draco arched an eyebrow.

“We’re still… friends?”

_ Friends. _ Hearing Potter say that felt like soaring up to the sun… before free-falling and crashing to the ground. Head first.  _ Friends. _ Did Draco want to be Potter’s friend? Of course not. He wanted… Well, it didn’t matter what he wanted. Being friends with Potter was as far as things could go. The only question was, would Draco be able to withstand that kind of torture? 

He briefly closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Yes, we’re still friends.”

“Okay. Good.”

Draco watched him as he went over to the fireplace with slightly sagging shoulders. 

“Well, good night,” Potter muttered, before he vanished in the green flames.


	6. What can I say

**Sunday, 19 January 2003**

_Draco,_  
_I’m really sorry about last night._  
_HP_

_Potter,_  
_don’t be daft._  
_We had too much to drink._  
_It doesn’t mean anything._  
_DM_

_Okay.  
Can I come by today? _

Draco looked at the letter, feeling torn. Of course he wanted Potter to come by, but a part of him was still rattled by the events of the night before. The need for some space was growing bigger. But from the looks of it, Potter had no intention of giving him space. It was the most endearing and dreadful thing ever. Draco couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think about anything else but Potter already. He needed some time to think. But… not seeing Potter was making his heart ache.

_How about tomorrow?_

It took Potter no time to send his answer.

_Alright.  
No take backs! _

Draco snorted. Sometimes, Potter acted like an easily excitable puppy. It was kind of cute.

Just as he was about to go downstairs to have some breakfast, another owl landed on his desk.

“Okay, now you’re overdoing it,” Draco muttered, untying the letter from the owl’s foot. He unfolded it and frowned. This wasn’t Potter’s handwriting…

_Dear Draco,_  
_I just ran into Stacey again._  
_There’s something I’d like to discuss with you._  
_Let me know when you’re free to meet._  
_Take care,_  
_Luna_

Draco’s pulse instantly kicked into overdrive. Shit! Did she find out more about his work? Did she? He needed to know right away. Hastily, he scribbled down his reply on her letter and sent the owl on its way.

An hour later, Draco was sitting in his favourite café, tapping his foot impatiently. Luna wouldn’t tell anyone, would she? Had she already? Ugh, this was maddening!

“Hey, Draco!”

Draco jumped up, clasping Luna’s shoulders.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

Luna looked completely unfazed by his outburst. “Tell them what?” she said.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he hissed.

“I do,” she shrugged, her lips stretching into a smile. “But it’s nice seeing you being passionate. You’re usually so stiff.”

Draco gaped at her. “Honestly, you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met,” he muttered.

“Oh, thank you.”

Draco kept gaping at her as she took her seat and ordered a lemonade.

“Do you want to keep standing? I think it would be much better to have this conversation sitting down, you know.”

Draco felt his left eye twitch before his brain finally provided him with the basics of how walking and sitting down worked. He watched Luna warily as she thanked the waitress and took a sip of her lemonade. Never taking his eyes off her, Draco discreetly cast a _Muffliato_ and reached for his coffee.

“What exactly did Stacey tell you that made you want to meet with me?”

“She told me a bunch of things, actually,” Luna said mysteriously.

“I should have made her take an Unbreakable Vow,” Draco grumbled under his breath.

“Please don’t take it out on her. I made her tell me. And she trusts me. And I trust her not tell anyone else. But honestly, I don’t get it, Draco. Why are you keeping this a secret?”

“So the whole Wizarding World can have a go at me? I don’t think so.”

“But this is a good thing. You’re doing good.”

“People will find a way to twist it so I’m the bad guy again.”

“But maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll see how much you’ve changed.” To Draco’s surprise, Luna reached across the table and put her hand over his. “Because you have. I can see it.”

Draco pressed his lips into a tight line and slowly pulled back his hand.

“I’ve thought about it,” he said quietly, staring at his cup. “I thought about making my involvement public, but… people will just think I’m doing this to restore my reputation. I would have to justify myself over and over again.  But you know what? I’m done chasing after people who don’t want me.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Luna nodding, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

“You’ve been through a lot,” she said.

“We’ve all been through a lot. And I’m responsible for so many—”

“It’s in the past, Draco,” she interrupted him. “Like I said, you’ve changed.” She took another sip of her lemonade, her eyes suddenly twinkling. “That’s what I wanted to talk about.” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I want to help.”

“What?”

“I’d like to volunteer.”

“But… aren’t you busy with the Quibbler?”

Luna shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve got enough free time and I’d rather do something useful with it. Unless you think I’m not qualified?”

“Um… that depends.” Draco cleared his throat. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’ve got lots of ideas,” Luna exclaimed, leaning forward. “I’d really like to teach the kids about all different kinds of magical creatures and Muggle animals. I’ve been doing a lot of reading and it’s fascinating. Oh, and I also thought it might be really cool to do some Muggle baking with them. Hermione showed me and it’s so much more fun than our way. Oh, OH, and I was thinking about swimming lessons and some Muggle sports!”

After his initial shock, Draco couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “It’s an infant school, not the Triwizard Tournament,” he sniggered. “But your ideas don’t sound too bad. I think they might like it.”

“Am I hired, then?”

Draco discreetly bit the inside of his cheek, which Luna seemed to notice.

“I won’t tell anyone about you. I promise,” she said.

Draco let out a sigh, hoping he wouldn’t regret this decision. “Alright. Meet me there on Tuesday at nine. I’ll show you around and introduce you to the others.”

“Great,” Luna beamed. Funnily enough, her cheerfulness wasn’t as annoying as Draco would have expected. It was almost contagious.

  
  


**Monday, 20 January 2003**

“That was fun! I haven’t been flying in ages.”

Draco quietly cleared his throat. Seeing Potter this happy and excited was doing terrible things to his heart.

“Yeah, I figured,” he said in his most haughty voice. “You weren’t able to keep up with me. You’ve let yourself go.” Draco’s smirk slowly faded when he caught the sudden emptiness in Potter’s eyes and the way he was clutching at his broom. What just happened? It wasn’t like Potter not to have a comeback.

“I was kidding,” Draco said, feeling extremely awkward. Bickering with Potter was easy. This, however, whatever it was, was uncomfortable. Potter seemed to think so as well and visibly tried to compose himself as he fumbled with his scarf.

“How about a rematch tomorrow?” he said, trying to sound lighthearted, but Draco could tell he was faking it.

“I can’t tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Draco inwardly smirked. Potter’s voice was dripping with disapproval. “I already have plans.”

“With whom?”

“I’m sorry, was I supposed to get your permission first?” Draco quipped. His heart skipped a beat when he saw how flustered Potter suddenly was.

“I didn’t mean— I was just— I—”

“Merlin, Potter,” Draco laughed. The prat was too endearing for his own good. “I’m meeting Luna.”

“Really?”

“I know. It’s the last thing I would have expected.”

“So… is this… like… a date?”

Potter wasn’t actually… jealous, was he? And if he was… was he jealous of Luna or Draco?

“Is it?” Potter looked like he was trying very hard to keep his cool.

“Maybe,” Draco shrugged. “You never know with Lovegood. She’s very… unique.” Draco had to force himself not to snigger when he saw the shock on Potter’s face. “Actually, I’m taking her somewhere I’ve never taken anyone before.”

Oh boy, was he overplaying it? Potter looked like his head was about to explode.

“Would you… Would you ever take _me_ there?”

Draco stiffened. The obvious answer was No.

Or was it?

“Maybe… someday,” he said, evasively.

“So… is it a romantic spot?”

Draco snorted with laughter before he could stop himself.

“So it’s not really a date,” Potter said, to which Draco rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s not a date, Potter.”

“Okay…”

The way Potter was staring at the ground and fumbling with his scarf was unnerving. Draco could tell he wanted to say something else. 

“You want to know where I’m taking her, don’t you?”

“Pfft, no,” Potter said with a scoff.

“Right,” Draco smirked.

“You’re not as mysterious as you’d like to be, you know,” Potter said. “I’m pretty sure wherever you’re taking her, it’s going to be full of pompous, snobbish people. I bet it’s going to be boring.”

“Oh, Potter, believe me when I say, it would blow your mind.”

“I doubt that. You’re so predictable.”

“I’m anything but predictable.”

“I knew you were going to say that. I guess Luna will be pretty disappointed tomorrow when she—”

“Fuck you, Potter! Nine am. I’ll send you the address.”

“Oh, I wasn’t—”

“Don’t be late.”

He turned on his heels, ready to leave when he heard Potter snigger. Oh! Oh, that bastard!

“Fuck,” Draco spluttered.

“Like I said, predictable,” Potter laughed. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked around Draco until he was facing him.

“It’s okay. You do your thing with Luna. I don’t want to intrude.”

Ugh. Draco didn’t know what he hated more, the fact that Potter had easily played him or that he was being disgustingly understanding. It made Draco want to tell him everything. He wanted Potter to see it for himself. But he couldn’t. Draco wasn’t ready. Taking Potter there would expose him.

Unless… Unless he told everybody in advance Potter was coming and they were to keep their mouths shut under all circumstances. Maybe, Potter getting a little glimpse wouldn’t be the worst thing? Draco had no idea why, but a part of him wanted to share this with Potter, let him in on the work that was so close to Draco’s heart.

“Whatever, Potter. I don’t care if you tag along or not.”

“Really?” Potter’s face lit up, which made it that much harder to take back what he had just said.

“Really,” Draco sighed.

“Alright, just owl me the address then.”

Draco watched as Potter mounted his broom and waved at him as he zoomed off.

Salazar, this better work! Draco really didn’t need any more complications in his life.

  
  


**Tuesday, 21 January 2003**

Complication number one: Potter was wearing that stupid wool coat again.

Complication number two: Apparently, he had tried to tame his hair.

Complication number three: Potter was good with kids.

Draco had instructed him to wait in the courtyard while he and Luna had gone inside, so Draco could show her the place. One of the teachers had soon offered to take over, to which Luna had heartily agreed, urging Draco to go back to Potter.

So here he was, lurking behind a tree as he watched Potter carefully get down on one knee and tap his wand against a little girl’s finger.

“There we go. No more splinter,” Potter said quietly and smiled at the girl. She was still crying, hiccuping every now and then. Potter reached up and gently brushed away a tear from her cheek. For the love of Merlin, did he really have to do that? Draco inwardly groaned.

“What’s your name?” Potter asked, playfully nudging her little nose. The girl just kept hiccuping.

“Her name is Celia,” Draco said, unable to stop himself. He went over to them and knelt down beside Potter.

“Celia. That’s a pretty name,” Potter said softly, smiling at her. “How old are you, Celia?”

Her brows furrowed as she looked down at her hands. She wrapped one around the other, slowly lifting one finger… two fingers… three fingers… When she lifted the fourth, she looked at Draco in silent uncertainty. He smiled at her, patting her head, and nodded. Still tear-stained, but now beaming, she turned to Potter and showed him her hand.

“Wow, four years,” Potter exclaimed, enthusiastically.

Draco ignored the warmth spreading in his chest, and patted Celia again. “Does it still hurt?” he asked. She blinked a few times, new tears rolling down her cheeks, but, finally, she shook her head. “Good,” Draco smiled.

Celia’s eyes darted between him and Potter before she leaned over to Draco, grabbed a handful of his robes and placed her head against his chest. She liked doing that.

“Are you Mr Malfoy’s friend?” she asked, regarding Potter closely.

“Um…” Draco could practically see Potter starting to sweat. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his eyes darting to Draco’s. Oh fuck.

“Did you go to school together?”

“We did,” Potter said, turning his attention back to Celia. She seemed to be thinking hard, her grip on Draco’s robes tightening.

“Can you fly really good?”

Potter laughed, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Well, I’ve been told I do quite alright on a broom.”

“Oh please,” Draco snorted. “You know how good you are. You would have beaten me in that race yesterday if it hadn’t been for that bird.”

Potter’s eyes found his once more, all warm and soft, sending Draco’s heart into a frenzy.

“Are you good at doing magic?” Celia asked, obviously getting more excited.

“Oh, you know, I—” Potter chuckled at Draco’s exasperated expression. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Can you show me?” Celia asked, lifting her head from Draco’s chest.

“What do you want me to do?” Potter asked.

“Um…” She looked around, her blond curls bouncing this way and that.

“Ah, I know,” Potter said. He took out his wand, his eyes never leaving Celia. Wordlessly, he flicked it several times and Draco wondered what he was doing. Right beside them, the snow suddenly lifted off the ground and whirled around like a small tornado.

“Whoa!” Celia’s eyes were wide as she watched the snow slowly transform. Draco couldn’t help but laugh when he realised what Potter was doing.

“Oh, a snowman,” Celia shrieked in delight. She clapped and giggled as the snowman started dancing around them. It was good to see her enjoy herself like that.

“Impressive, huh?” Potter said to Celia, wiggling his eyebrows. Draco snorted, drawing his wand as well. Within seconds, a second snowman danced around them, while Celia squealed and jumped up and down. Smug, Draco turned his gaze to Potter. Oh boy. He had a mischievous glint in his eyes. He barely moved his wand, his eyes locked with Draco’s, the grin on his face widening.

“Ah!”

Reluctantly, Draco tore his gaze away from Potter, only to see… Oh, that bastard! The two snowmen were now dancing with each other, it almost looked like they were waltzing, while a dozen of little snowmen flounced around them.

“Showoff,” Draco muttered, eliciting another laugh from Potter. Draco doubted he would ever tire of that sound.

“Mr Malfoy,” Celia said, tugging at his robes. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice quivering with excitement.

“What?”

“It’s him,” she said, lowering her voice almost conspiratorially. “The one you’re always telling us stories about. It’s him, right? Right?” Before Draco could say anything, she turned back to Potter, beaming. “Mr Malfoy said you’re the best flyer he’s ever seen.”

Potter blinked.

“And he said you don’t have a mummy and a daddy, either, just like me.”

Draco cringed.

“He said you were really sad, but you’ll be happy again, so I can be, too!”

He could feel Potter’s gaze on him while heat and embarrassment washed over him.

“Mr Malfoy said he can see it in your eyes. He said your eyes are so green, they—”

“Okay, time for the next class, Celia, darling,” Draco said hastily, his cheeks flaming, and hoisted the little girl up in his arms. She shrieked excitedly and threw her arms around his neck.

“Bye,” she called to Potter, waving at him. Without a backward glance, Draco marched inside, nearly stumbling over the little snowmen that were still scurrying around.

“It was him, right?” She poked his shoulder impatiently when he didn’t answer. “Right?”

Draco groaned and let out a sigh. “Right,” he muttered.

Celia giggled happily. “Does he come to your house?”

“Um… he’s been there, yes.”

“Do you play games together?”

Draco grinned. “We used to play Quidditch.”

Celia’s eyes widened and her mouth shaped into an ‘o’. She looked impressed. “Do you have sleepovers?”

“Err…” Draco berated his mind, as soon as images of him and Potter, rolling around on a bed, popped up. “Not really, no.”

“Does your mummy not allow it?”

It was amazing, really, how much truth was behind that innocent question of a child.

“Something like that,” Draco said evasively.

“Does he share his cookies with you?”

Draco let out a laugh. “He brings me breakfast. Does that count?”

Celia cocked her head and pursed her lips while she tapped her chin with her index finger. “Yes,” she finally said. “Is he a good friend?”

Draco paused, gazing at her thoughtfully. “I think he could be,” he said quietly.

“Oh, what is that?” Celia squealed. Draco looked over his shoulder, grinning when he saw Luna holding a giant plush toy.

“I guess you’ll be learning about unicorns today.”

Carefully, he let the squirming child down again. His eyes followed her movements as she immediately darted into the classroom.

“Oh Draco, this place is wonderful,” Luna said. “And the teachers are so nice! They said I could give it a go.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. What was it about her that made him feel like the world wasn’t such a bad place after all?

“Have fun,” he said. “I’d better take Potter someplace else, though. Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“I’m not on my own, there are a bunch of children waiting for me. And Stacey said she’d help me.” Beaming, she skipped into the classroom where the children welcomed her and the plush unicorn with ear piercing screams.

Honestly, the more Draco thought about it, the more he was convinced Luna would make a great addition to the teaching staff. Who would have thought?

“So…”

Draco stiffened, slowly turning around. Oh no.

“Been standing there long?” he asked, trying to sound like he didn’t care. Potter shrugged, but Draco sensed he wanted to say something.

“Out with it, Potter. What is it?”

“You’re good with kids,” he said. Draco caught the underlying tone of wonder and snorted.

“I know, shocker.” He rolled his eyes when Potter sniggered.

“Actually, it is kind of a shocker. All this, I mean.” He gestured around the hallway, apparently at a loss for words. “I have so many questions.”

“I figured,” Draco sighed.

“Come on, you have to admit it is a little odd.”

Draco just shrugged.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“There was no reason to tell you about it.”

“No reason? Right, because it’s totally normal for Draco Malfoy to be volunteering at a magical infant school.”

“And that,” Draco said, waving his index finger at Potter, “is exactly why I didn’t tell anyone about this.”

Potter stared at him, his expression thoughtful. “Don’t you want people to know what you’re doing for the Wizarding community?”

“No,” Draco said, defiantly. “I don’t need some hypocritical article in the Daily Prophet or whatever bollocks they’d do.”

Potter studied him closely and slowly nodded. “I know what you mean.” 

“That’s why I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about me… volunteering here,” Draco said.

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

“So, are you ready to go? Or do you want to eavesdrop some more?” Draco teased.

Potter pressed his lips together as they walked outside. At least he had the sense to look guilty.

“Is the building under a Concealment Charm?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“The whole premises. And they added a Muggle-Repelling Charm.”

“Yeah… Kinda risky, running a magical school in the city, isn’t it?”

Draco shrugged. “There are several others in the countryside, but it would have been a pain in the arse for the families who live here, especially the Muggle-born children, since this isn’t a boarding school. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Potter said hastily. It was obvious he wanted to comment on the fact that Draco was working with people he had once resented, calling them names and whatnot. “How did you find this place? And how did they let— um…”

“What, let me work with children? You can say it.”

Potter looked uncomfortable but he slowly nodded.

“It’s a long story,” Draco said evasively. He didn’t feel like explaining everything in detail. But he knew he had to tell Potter something. “I guess… I don’t want others to repeat my mistakes.”

Potter halted, frowning at him. “Draco—”

“Let’s not get into that,” Draco said, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “All I’m saying is… children like you or me only know what their parents, um, or guardians taught them until they arrive at Hogwarts. I know from first-hand experience how that can turn into a problem. We can’t eradicate prejudices or idiocy, but we can teach children to be more open-minded.” He tried to appear as nonchalant as possible while Potter kept staring at him. “It’s pretty simple,” Draco continued, mostly to fill the awkward silence. “Basically, Muggle-borns learn about magic before they come to Hogwarts and pure-bloods learn more about Muggles. Most importantly, they do it together.”

“But most Muggle-borns don’t know they have magic. I only found out I’m a wizard when I got my letter from Hogwarts,” Potter said.

“The Ministry has created a special department for that,” Draco explained. “Magic is traceable, even in a child who hasn’t used it yet.”

“So… what, there are Ministry workers running around the country, casting spells on children to see if they’re a wizard or a witch?” Potter asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re… working on that,” Draco said.

A flicker of amusement crossed Potter’s face as he finally resumed walking.

“Wow, I’m kinda speechless,” he murmured. “I had no idea you were so…”

“So what?”

“Compassionate.”

“This has nothing to do with compassion, Potter,” Draco said, wrinkling his nose.

“Well, but I can tell this means a lot to you.”

Draco said nothing. It did mean a lot to him and it was such a strange feeling to be sharing it with Potter.

“Thanks for showing me,” Potter said. Draco made a non-committal sound. “I, um, I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, um… I sneaked inside when you showed Luna around and one of the teachers showed me something.”

Draco’s heart jumped. Oh no, what had Potter seen?

“She thought I might want to know that my money is being put to good use.”

Oh bugger.

“She showed me some paperwork and I saw how the school is financed.”

Damn it. So much for them keeping their mouths shut under all circumstances.

“You helped organise all those charity galas, didn’t you?”

Draco couldn’t tell if Potter was displeased or not. At least he had only found out part of the truth.

“Maybe,” he said, curtly.

“You only invited me to one gala.” That definitely sounded a little reproachful.

“You don’t like going to events like that,” Draco pointed out.

“Yeah… but still…”

Draco contemplated his options, finally deciding that honesty was probably his best shot. “Okay, look, the thing is… I invited you to that gala to raise more money. I knew if people saw you were coming—”

“So you basically used me,” Potter interrupted him. “To… help children.” Potter pressed his lips together, but, Draco realised, it wasn’t in irritation; it was to keep himself from laughing. “And, err, that’s the only reason you invited me?”

Draco almost tripped over his own feet. “What— What else would there be?”

“Draco,” Potter sighed. “Why can’t you just admit you like me?” Draco froze, his mind going completely blank. Potter seemed to be in a similar state, looking like he was berating himself for what he’d just said. “Um, you know… as a person,” he added quickly.

Draco willed his muscles to relax, forcing his lips into a smirk. “You’re… not horrible.”

“I’ll take it,” Potter said with a grin. “Although…” His grin widened. “You seem to like me enough to tell the kids stories about me.”

Oh no, here we go.

“I tell them stories about _me_. You just happen to be… a part of that.”

“A big part?”

Oh, that cocky bastard.

“You just have to take the lead in everything, don’t you?”

“That’s not a no,” Potter said, looking smug.

Draco’s mouth twitched, in spite of himself. Damn it! Why was Potter’s smile so infectious?

“I’m glad I came today,” Potter said.

Me too, Draco thought, exchanging a long and meaningful glance with him. There was no point in saying it out loud. He had a feeling Potter already knew.


	7. Think about the consequence

**Friday, 31 January 2003**

Draco leaned his head against the back of the armchair, his grip on the blanket wrapped around him slowly loosening.

“I hate everything,” he murmured.

“Yeah, you don’t look so good,” Potter said.

“I don’t need your commentary,” Draco sniffled and tried to suppress a sneeze. 

“This is silly, Draco! Why don’t you let me come through?”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who appeared in my fireplace unannounced, and now you’re inviting yourself into my parlour? Again?” Draco raised an eyebrow. “I always knew you had poor manners, Potter, but honestly.” He tried to hide how much he was enjoying this, even though there was still a tiny bit of wariness lurking in the back of his mind.

“Come on,” Potter whined. “My knees are starting to hurt.”

“I like having you on your knees, actually.”

“Oh, really?” Potter said, his lips stretching into an impish grin. “Is it too soon to make a virgin joke?”

Draco made a choking sound and felt his cheeks heating up. “Potter, I think it’s time for you to go.”

Potter didn’t give any indication of doing what Draco had told him, which was highly irritating.

“Go away and let me sleep.”

“Don’t be like that,” Potter said with a little pout that was almost too adorable to resist.

“I’m telling you, Potter, I’m sick, and I’m out of Pepperup Potion, so—”

“But I got one,” Potter said in a sing-song voice. “Just let me come through.”

Draco scowled at him as he sunk lower in his armchair, unwilling to admit defeat. “I’ll ask Blaise to get me some,” he said stubbornly, tightening his grip on the blanket.

Potter made the pouty face again. Ugh. “Do you really not want to see me?”

Draco hesitated, his eyes on the carpet. “That’s not fair,” he murmured unthinkingly.

“What was that?” 

“Ugh! Fine! Come through, you insufferable prat!”

Potter made a triumphant whooping sound before his face vanished. A moment later, green flames erupted in the fireplace as Potter stepped out of it.

“Merlin, Draco, it’s freezing in here! No wonder you’re sick. Have you forgotten how to cast a heating charm?”

“My magic has been a bit off since I’ve caught this stupid cold,” Draco muttered. Before Potter approached him, he flicked his wand wordlessly. Mere seconds later, Draco felt like he was sitting in the afternoon sun, warm and cosy. He eyed the other man’s hand sceptically when Potter held out the Pepperup Potion to him.

“What do you want in return?” he asked.

Potter smiled at him, deviously. “What makes you think I want something in return?”

Draco gave him a look that said far more than words. Potter sniggered, dropped the potion in Draco’s lap, and plopped down on the sofa opposite of him.

“I was going to ask if you want to come over for dinner,” he said, nonchalant.

“Dinner,” Draco echoed. “You want me to come over for dinner.”

Potter simply nodded and crossed his legs, stretching his arms out on the backrest. He looked far more comfortable than he should have, Draco decided. 

“Come on, take the potion so we can go over to mine.” Potter almost sounded impatient. The urge to ask him why he was so keen on spending so much time with Draco was getting stronger. Honestly, he didn’t understand it at all, but he felt drained already. Maybe it was best to leave that particular can of worms unopened for now. 

Tipping his head back, Draco downed the potion, welcoming the burning sensation in his sore throat. The effect was instantaneous.

“Better?” Potter asked.

“Better,” Draco replied, shrugging off the blanket.

“Great, let’s go, then.” 

“Let me get changed, first,” Draco said, rising from the armchair.

“Why? What you’re wearing is fine.”

“I’m not dressed for dinner,” Draco insisted.

“You look great, now come on.”

Draco bit back his retort, Potter’s rushed compliment shooting through him like an arrow. He knew Potter had just said that to shut him up, but his stomach seemed to think it was appropriate to unleash a massive swarm of butterflies, which started fluttering around inside him happily.

“You coming?” Potter said when Draco didn’t move. He furrowed his brows in silent puzzlement and when Draco still didn’t move, he reached for his hand. If only he hadn’t. When Draco’s skin made contact with Potter’s, it was as if sparks were flying between them. Only… there were actual sparks.

“What—”

Potter jumped when the fireplace behind him suddenly roared and his jumper nearly caught on fire. He whirled around, shocked.

“What was that?” He stared at the fireplace before his eyes wandered over to Draco. “Did you just— Was that you?”

Draco swallowed around the lump in his throat. Shit. 

“Um… I told you, my magic has been a bit off,” he muttered, lamely.

“But you took the Pepperup potion. You’re fine now.”

“Not completely, it seems.” He cleared his throat when Potter gave him a sceptical look. “Shall we go?” 

“Sure,” Potter murmured, still eyeing him suspiciously. “I’ll go first. Just say you want to go to my flat, I’ll let the wards down.”

Draco nodded, stiffly, and watched Potter vanish in the green flames. He took a few deep breaths before he did the same. 

The first thing he noticed when he stepped into Potter’s living room was how empty it looked. The essentials were there, a sofa, a shelf… but there was no trace of  _ Potter _ . Nobody could have guessed he was the one living here. As Draco pondered that, his eyes fell on the table in the middle of the room; he immediately froze.

“But… you already made dinner.”

“I did.”

“That was a little presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Draco drank in Potter’s smile. It was teasing, but also… something else. It made him want to smack him… and then snog him senseless. Oh boy. This evening was already doomed.

“I’m only here because you practically begged me,” Draco drawled.

“You can say what you want, Draco, I know you like spending time with me.”

There was something so disarming about that comment, Draco momentarily lost his train of thought. If Potter noticed, he didn’t let it show. He seemed concentrated as he lighted a few candles. Candles! As if this was supposed to be romantic.

“Can you open the wine?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Gladly. You can’t be trusted with an important task like that,” Draco replied, walking over to the table. He reached for the bottle, scanning the label, and furrowed his brows. It actually wasn’t a bad one. On the contrary. It was one of Draco’s favourites.

“Is it not the right one?” Potter asked when he saw Draco frowning at the bottle.

“It'll do,” Draco shrugged.

“You’re such an arse,” Potter sniggered.

Draco peeked sideways at him, his scalp prickling. Had Potter seriously spent nearly 200 Galleons just to please Draco? Just a few days ago, he had said it was insane to spend that much money on wine. Warmth spread through Draco’s body, which was highly unwelcome. Shaking his head, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the bottle. He eyed the rest of the table and was surprised to find that Potter had actually managed to put together a rather decent looking meal. He wasn’t too keen on pot roast, but it looked better than he had expected from Potter.

“I didn’t know you can cook,” he murmured as he sat down.

“Yeah, well, some kids learn how to play an instrument, I learned how to cook,” Potter said, taking his own seat.

“Your family taught you how to cook? How very Muggle of them.”

“They were Muggles,” Potter pointed out and Draco noticed there was no humour left in his eyes. “And they didn’t really teach me. I learned as I went. I only knew I was making progress when they didn’t yell at me.”

Draco blinked. “You make it sound like that was a common occurrence.”

“It was,” Potter shrugged.

“But…” Draco shook his head. “So you cooked  _ for them _ ?”

“Yeah,” Potter muttered, staring at his plate. “Sometimes they let me have the leftovers. Which wasn’t that often, since my cousin devoured anything remotely edible.”

Draco couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It sounded… it sounded like Potter’s childhood hadn’t been nearly as happy as Draco had thought. Of course he had heard rumours over the years, especially at Hogwarts, but he had always thought people were exaggerating to make the rising of the Saviour even more glorious.

“Are you telling me…” He swallowed, fisting his hand into the tablecloth. “Are you telling me they starved you?”

Potter bit his lip. He looked uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t say ‘starved’. They…” He sighed. “My aunt gave me enough… to…”

To what? Survive? This was outrageous! Draco’s vision blurred as his stomach twisted painfully. Suddenly, so many little things he hadn’t pondered on when they had been at Hogwarts made so much sense in light of that revelation. 

Draco had always been skinny himself and he could basically eat what he wanted without gaining any weight, so he hadn’t thought anything of Potter’s slim figure. But now that he thought about it, he had looked unhealthily skinny in their first year. Draco remembered his disgust when he had watched Potter devour his food in the Great Hall. He had simply thought the prat lacked proper manners. But now… No wonder Potter had been so fixated on food. Draco balled his hands into fists around his cutlery.Those damned Muggles had starved him.

“What the—” Potter let out a yell in surprise as the wine bottle burst into a thousand pieces. There was red wine everywhere. Draco was still flooded with anger, barely noticing that Potter was talking to him.

“Did you just— Was that you? Again?”

Draco didn’t answer, trying not to break anything else in his rage. Potter seemed to notice how tense he was, moving deliberately slow as he reached for his wand. With a quick flick, the shards and the spilled wine were gone. 

“There’s still wine on your clothes,” Potter said quietly. His face was unreadable, but there was something about the way he was looking at Draco that gave the impression he was experiencing a flood of emotions. 

“Whatever,” Draco muttered. Before he could grab his wand, Potter spoke again.

“No, wait! I don’t think you should be using magic right now.”

Draco rolled his eyes, even though he quietly agreed with Potter. “You do it, then.”

Potter’s face twisted. “No, I don’t trust myself to— No. Let’s just— Wait here, okay?” He got up and darted into another room. His bedroom, Draco supposed. When he came back, he was holding a blue jumper.

“Here, put this on.” 

Draco scrunched up his nose and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “That’s ridiculous. Just wave your bloody wand and it’ll get rid of the stains.”

“Draco,” Potter said in a stern voice. “I’m not using magic on you right now. Stop being a baby and put this on.”

Gritting his teeth, Draco wrenched the jumper out of Potter’s hands and stomped into his bedroom, banging the door shut behind him. Throwing the jumper on Potter’s bed, he unbuttoned his shirt with furious fingers and tossed in on the floor. He grimaced as he pulled on the jumper, unwilling to acknowledge how soft it felt against his skin. And… oh Merlin, he didn’t think this through! Of course the jumper smelled like Potter! 

Carefully, Draco sniffed at the sleeve and was immediately overwhelmed. How was he supposed to survive the evening like this? He tried not to think about how many times Potter had worn this jumper, how it usually caressed  _ his  _ skin, how it probably tousled his hair when he pulled it off… Oh, Merlin!

With a scowl, Draco looked down on himself. He probably looked ridiculous. The jumper was far too big. Why Potter liked his clothes like this, Draco would never understand. He looked around, frowning. Didn’t Potter own a mirror? Huh. There was something in the corner of the room that could be a mirror, but it was covered with a bedsheet. Letting curiosity get the better of him, he walked over and lifted it. Surely enough, his reflection stared back at him. Weird! Why would Potter cover up his mirror? Oh, and Draco did look very ridiculous indeed! 

Sighing, he let go of the bedsheet and turned around. His gaze fell on a picture frame on Potter’s bedside table; Potter, Granger and Weasley were grinning like idiots, their arms around their shoulders. It must have been taken at Hogwarts, or at least during their time there. Somehow, Draco thought it was significant that this seemed to be the only personal thing Potter had on display in his flat. And it was in his bedroom, so not everybody would see it. He had no idea what to make of it.

“Are you okay in there?” he heard Potter call. Draco huffed and kicked his shirt into a corner. Potter could clean it for all he cared. Grumpily, he marched back into the living room. He caught sight of Potter’s face, which was strangely lighting up. He almost looked as though he liked seeing Draco in his jumper. 

“It’s too big,” Draco muttered as he sat down.

“All my clothes are like that,” Potter shrugged, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. 

“Why?”

Potter shrugged again. “I’m used to it, I guess.” He was still looking at Draco in that strange way. He probably just felt smug, having robbed Draco of his dignity.

“This was just a ploy to get me into one of your hideous jumpers, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Potter said with a cheeky grin. “It looks good on you.”

Draco snorted, looking down on himself once more. It was like he was wearing a tent. Potter was about his height, and while his shoulders might have been a bit broader, it didn’t explain why he was choosing to wear clothes that looked like they could fit that half-giant, Hagrid.

Draco’s eyes roamed Potter’s face, his torso… Now that he thought about it, it looked like Potter had put on a few pounds. Good. The thought that his Muggle relatives had starved him still made Draco want to scream. But Potter looked healthier now and Draco suddenly felt weirdly grateful for that.

“Are you still in touch with your Muggle relatives?” he asked, unable to stop himself.

“Let’s not talk about that anymore. Let’s change the subject,” Potter said, wearily. No, Draco wanted to say, we’re talking about this, but Potter’s tortured expression pulled at his heartstrings. He nodded, trying not to be too obvious about watching Potter as he cut into the pot roast. 

“Oh,” he blurted as he swallowed his first bite. “This is… good.”

Potter’s face immediately lit up. “Did you just give me a compliment?”

Draco snorted, distracting himself with another bite. “Don’t get used to it,” he muttered. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Potter hesitantly lifting a forkful of pot roast to his mouth. His heart gave a little jump when Potter started to chew. He never would have thought watching someone else eat could feel that satisfying. Was that weird? Probably.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Potter said. “Doesn’t your mother want you to move to France?”

Draco let out a humourless laugh. Oh, the discussions they’d had about that.

“I’m just curious,” Potter added. 

“Looking for a way to get rid of me?” Draco quipped, even though he felt a little stab to the chest. Potter getting sick of him was such a horrible thought.  
  
“First of all, it’s not like France isn’t just a portkey away,” Potter said in an amused tone. “Second, I’ll admit, I’m… not too mad you didn’t move to France with your mum.”

Huh. Was he saying— 

“So why didn’t you?” Potter asked.

“It would have looked like I’m running away,” Draco responded. “Not that I blame mother, but I just… I just wanted to stay,” he shrugged.

“Not taking the easy way out,” Potter said with an approving nod. “I think that’s admirable.”

Irritation flared up in Draco and he was just about to snap at Potter, when he added, “I’m glad you decided to stay.”

That… sounded… genuine. But… He was glad? What did that even mean? Draco felt so confused, he grabbed at the air, instead of his wine glass. Which was empty. Because he had destroyed the wine. Ugh! Potter couldn’t just say something like that. Especially not while they were having a candlelight dinner, which Potter had prepared himself! That was just—

“But are you thinking of moving there in the future?” Potter asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Ha, I don’t think my fiancée would approve of that,” Draco snorted. “She doesn’t like—”

There was a loud bang as Potter’s cutlery hit his plate. What was—

Oh. Fuck.  _ Fuck! _

“You’re engaged?”

They stared at each other in silence while Draco hoped Potter wasn’t able to hear his erratic heartbeat. He should have stayed away from Potter. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have—

“You’re engaged,” Potter repeated. Only, this time, it didn’t sound like a question. “I can’t believe this.”

Draco pressed his lips into a tight line. 

“You’re fucking engaged!”

Draco startled. Why was Potter getting so mad? Yes, Draco had kept his engagement a secret, but there was no reason for him to—

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Draco was surprised at how hurt Potter sounded. 

“It’s not official, yet,” he said, trying to collect himself.

“Oh, of course!” Potter threw his hands in the air. “Were you seriously going to string me along until I read about it in the paper?”

“You don’t read the paper,” Draco retorted.

“Draco!” Potter suddenly seemed livid. 

“What!” Draco snapped. Potter had no right to get mad at him. He wasn’t the one with the inexplicable, tedious crush! But… what was it he had just said? ‘String him along’? Surely, he wasn’t implying— 

“What exactly was the point of this, then?” Potter asked, gesturing around. Draco wasn’t sure if he meant the dinner or… their friendship?

“You were the one who wanted to be friends,” Draco pointed out.

Potter raked his fingers through his hair, causing it to look as if he’d just been out flying. “Then you— You don’t—”

Don’t what? What was he trying to say?

“I guess I’ve been… reading the signs wrong.”

Signs? What signs? Was… was Potter saying—

“Let’s just, um, forget about this.”

Draco blinked. Did Potter mean this conversation? This evening? Everything? Whatever he meant, Draco didn’t want to be here anymore. He wanted to curl up in his bed and die.

“I just remembered, I was supposed to firecall mother this evening. I better get going before it gets too late.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Potter said. Draco almost shivered at how cold and distant his voice sounded.

“Thank you for dinner, it was—” He broke off, having no clue how to end that sentence. Potter refused to look at him which, thankfully, made his flight a little easier at least. 

Unfortunately, Potter’s stony expression, averted from Draco’s gaze, was all he could think about as he lay awake that night, unable to find any rest.

  
  
  


**Saturday, 1 March 2003**

“Happy birthday, Ron!”

“Thanks, Luna. Oh, what’s this?”

“Your present, of course,” Luna beamed. Weasley took it with a bright grin, which quickly faded when he realised whatever was in that package was moving.

“Luna,” he said, sounding alarmed. “What’s in there?”

“It’s a surprise, obviously. Be sure to tell me when you open it. I want to see your face.”

Draco wasn’t sure whether to laugh at Weasley’s worried expression or to be worried himself. Luna was such a wildcard. 

He cleared his throat and extended his arm. “Happy birthday, Weasley.”

For a second, Draco thought Weasley would decline his hand. How ironic would that be? But he didn’t, and he didn’t squeeze as hard as Draco would have expected. Without further explanation, Draco handed him the bottle of firewhiskey under his arm. Some might have said it was a boring gift, but these people obviously had no taste. Which was why Draco was far more concerned about the fact that this was probably throwing pearls before swine.

“Oh wow, that’s some premium stuff! Thanks, err, Malfoy.” Huh. He almost sounded genuine. Still, it didn’t make Draco less uncomfortable to be here. Yes, he could have declined Luna’s offer to accompany her to the party, but… well. As always, it was all Potter’s fault.

Draco hadn’t seen him since that dreadful dinner and neither of them had made contact again. Even though Draco wanted to explain his… situation, he had a feeling it would only make things worse. Coming here probably wasn’t the smartest move, given these circumstances, but it was also the perfect opportunity to see Potter again without having to initiate it. And even though Draco would rather have been dead than admit it out loud, he missed seeing the stupid prat.

As soon as he and Luna stepped into the living room, Draco scanned the crowd. There were a few people he didn’t recognise. Probably people Weasley worked with. Great, just what Draco needed, a bunch of drunk Aurors! Well, they didn’t look that professional now, all dressed very casually and surrounded by colourful balloons that were floating around the room.

He spotted Granger, who was talking to some people from school; Thomas and Finnigan, who were apparently joined at the hip these days, Longbottom, a few other Gryffindors whose names had escaped Draco, and… no Potter. Ugh. 

“So, should we get a—” Draco looked around when he realised he was talking to nobody. Where was Luna? Ah, there she was, talking to one of the Weasley twins. Draco’s heart sank a little when he realised he had forgotten his name again, identifying him instead as ‘the one who survived’. Draco couldn’t have cared less about his name before, but now… Maybe it was time to make some real effort. 

Bracing himself for the uncomfortable conversation he was undoubtedly about to have, he walked over to them, his joints becoming more stiff with every step. 

“Hey, Draco,” Luna beamed. “You remember George, right?” Thank heavens for this girl!

“Hey… Draco?” It almost sounded like a question, as though George was trying to navigate the unfamiliarity of his first name. 

“George,” Draco said with a small nod. Yeah, this was really weird.

“You guys are friends?” George asked, his voice dripping with scepticism.

“Oh, yes,” Luna smiled. “Draco can be really nice. Although I think he prefers to let people think he isn’t. Not like in the past, though. He wasn’t nice when he was a Death Eater. But I think he’s trying to make up for it.”

As always, Draco’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You really just say what comes to mind, don’t you?”

Luna cocked her head. “Don’t  _ you _ ? Oh, no wonder you’re scowling all the time if you keep all of your thoughts to yourself!” 

“I guess it hurts people sometimes, hearing other people’s unfiltered thoughts,” George said. It didn’t escape Draco’s notice that he was giving him a speculative glance.

“But everything I just said is true,” Luna said. 

“Is it?” George asked in an unconvinced tone. Draco bit his tongue, but before he could stop himself, the words spilled out of his mouth.

“Listen, I know it probably means nothing to you, but I am really sorry. I’m sorry for the role I played in the war and… for what happened to your brother.” Draco stared at the floor, unable to look George in the eyes.

“You already said that,” George said, prompting Draco’s eyes to involuntarily snap up to his. “In your letter. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Oh, you got one, too?” Luna asked without sounding surprised. Instead, she sounded happy.

“Yeah,” George said slowly before he turned his attention back to Draco. “It was a good gesture, you know, that you wrote to each of us individually, instead of sending one letter to the whole family. I appreciate you apologising in person, but I don’t put much value to words.”

“Oh, but Draco is—”

“Luna,” Draco interrupted her warningly. 

George’s eyes flickered questioningly between the two of them. Luna just shrugged. 

“Well, as much as I prefer action to words, Harry says you’re different now, too, so…” He raised his butterbeer to Draco and took a swig. “I guess I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Right,” Draco said with the ghost of a smile. Honestly, he had expected worse. So much worse. Also, Potter was talking about him? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It made his belly all fluttery and warm. Ugh.

“You want something to drink?” he asked, turning to Luna.

“Oh, yes, a butterbeer, please.”

Draco nodded, making his way to the kitchen. He was pretty sure George and Luna started talking about him the second he was gone, but he didn’t mind. George had every right to be sceptical. Honestly, Draco had no idea why Luna liked him. Most days, Draco didn’t like himself, so how could anybody else? 

He let out a sigh in relief when he found the kitchen was empty. Well, except for more balloons. How many were there? He helped himself to a glass of red wine which, shockingly, tasted far better than he would have thought, given this was Weasley’s party.

“Hey, where’d you get that glass?” 

Draco turned around, startled, and found a young man with sandy brown hair smiling at him.

“Right here,” he said, handing him one.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching for the firewhiskey. “I’m Henry by the way.”

“Draco.”

“Oh, you’re Draco Malfoy, aren’t you?” Henry said, stretching out his hand. Draco shook it warily. When people recognised him by his name, they usually started talking about the past. And even though this Henry guy seemed friendly enough, Draco was in no mood to talk about his days as a Death Eater with a stranger. 

“That’s me,” he said in a clipped tone, sipping at his wine.

“Harry told me so much about—”

“Ah, you met Henry.” 

Draco almost choked. His eyes widened as he took in the bright grin on Potter’s face as he entered the kitchen. It was such a shocking sight; not only because Draco hadn’t expected to see Potter grinning at him after what had happened between them, but… because… 

Holy fucking Mother of Merlin! 

Bloody Potter had a bloody beard now. And not just a little stubble from being too lazy to shave for a few days, a full-on, raven-black beard. Shit.  _ Shit!  _ It made him look absolutely delectable. And as if to mock Draco, the prat had chosen to dress nicely for a change. 

As Draco eyed the collar of the blue dress shirt and the tie, he wondered if Potter was indeed wearing this to irritate him. Surely, Luna had told him she would be bringing Draco. That would also explain why he didn’t look surprised at all to find him in Weasley’s kitchen. Besides, he knew Potter. This wasn’t an outfit he’d normally choose for himself. The grey jumper he was wearing on top looked incredibly soft; was that cashmere? Potter didn’t wear cashmere!

Draco was suddenly startled out of his thoughts when he noticed Potter had curled an arm around Henry’s hip. It was a very possessive gesture, one that said ‘He’s mine, back off’. Only, Draco couldn’t have cared less about Henry. 

“Oh, how lovely,” he said with a fake smile while his insides started to boil. Potter was dating someone? He was  _ dating  _ someone? And he was parading him in front of Draco like a show dog. Seriously?  _ Seriously?  _

They all flinched when several balloons around the room suddenly burst. Henry looked this way and that, while Potter’s gaze flickered to Draco for a fraction of a second. Damn it, he needed to control his magic around Potter. And from the looks of it, the stupid prat knew exactly what was going on. Or he seemed to have his suspicions at least.

“Hey, Harry, Henry, could you guys come over here for a sec?” Granger called from the living room.

“Excuse us,” Potter said with a hint of a smile. He kept his arm around Henry as they walked out of the kitchen. 

Excuse  _ us _ ? Yes, it was very clear they were an ‘us’; still, it hurt hearing that come out of Potter’s mouth.

“Oh, hey, there you are, I was wondering— Are you okay?”

Draco blinked at Luna without really seeing her.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said automatically.

“You look—” She pursed her lips, her gaze intensifying. “Is this because of Henry and Harry?”

Draco’s vision blurred at the mention of their names. Henry and Harry. It sounded like a joke without a punchline. 

“It is, isn’t it? I’m sorry, Draco.”

“Did you know Harry was dating someone?”

“No, I had no idea. Honestly, I thought you and—”

“Don’t,” Draco interrupted her. “Don’t say it.” 

“Draco.” Without warning, she wrapped her arms around his midriff and put her head on his chest. “I’m so sorry.” Her curls tickled his chin as she spoke. As much as he tried to control his body, he couldn’t keep it from trembling. Luna seemed to notice and pressed herself more firmly against him. It felt strange and unfamiliar, being hugged like this. But Draco couldn’t deny the soothing effect it had on him. He had no idea what Luna saw in him, what made her trust him enough to call him her friend and comfort him. Yes, they had grown closer while working together at the school, but still… Draco couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Luna considering him a friend. 

As the seconds ticked by, the inexplicable urge to just let himself feel all the awful emotions he had been bottling up for weeks was growing stronger. Unable to fight it any longer, he put his arms around Luna in return and buried his face in her hair. It smelled nice. Like pineapples. 

“Oh, err, sorry.”

Draco looked up, feeling a rush of adrenaline shoot through him as he stared into confused green eyes.

“I didn’t know you guys were—”

Draco felt Luna shift in his arms, before she slowly let go of him.

“You know, Harry, I think you should talk to Draco. You’re upsetting him.”

“ _ I’m _ upsetting him?” Potter blurted, but Luna didn’t bat an eyelash as she walked past him. “What the fuck?”

“Just forget it, Potter,” Draco drawled, intent on following Luna. 

Potter stopped him with a hand on his chest. 

“Don’t touch me,” Draco growled and slapped his hand away.

“Fuck you, Draco,” Potter glowered. “Fuck you!”

“How eloquent,” Draco said, rolling his eyes. 

“No, you don’t get to be condescending, you lying bastard!”

“Excuse me?”

“You lied to me! You didn’t tell me you were engaged! But, apparently, that doesn’t really matter, since you seem to be getting it on with—”

“WHAT?”

“Does your fiancée know you’re walking around, flirting with people left and right?”

Draco felt the sudden urge to punch him. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Potter.”

“No?” he said, his tone challenging. 

“I don’t owe you any sort of explanation,” Draco snarled, leaning closer to him. “Besides, I’m not the one with the new lap dog.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you!”

“What?”

“You’re the one with the secret fiancée!” Potter yelled. “Also, you can’t just come in here, to my best mate’s home, and act like… like this!”

“Like what?”

“LIKE YOU CARE!”

Draco stared at him, completely taken aback.

“You’re apologising to people, you’re being decent,” he huffed, “and you’re volunteering at a freaking infant school.” 

“So?”

“So? You’re not supposed to be—” He rubbed at his chin, drawing Draco’s attention to it. He immediately wondered if Potter’s beard felt as soft as it looked. Merlin, how he longed to touch it.

“It’s not an act, if that’s what you’re—”

“Whatever it is, you need to stop. Now!”

“Why?”

Potter glowered at him. “You’re engaged,” he said, as if that explained everything.

“Why do you even care?” Draco said through gritted teeth, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Fuck you, Draco! You know why.”

No, Draco didn’t. Because it couldn’t be. 

They stared at each other for a long moment, until Potter’s expression turned from livid to something more complex.

“How long have you been engaged?”

“That’s—” —none of your business, he wanted to say. He didn’t want to talk about this. Least of all with Potter. But he was tired of fighting. He couldn’t tell Potter the whole truth, but maybe he’d stop pestering him if he at least told him something. “We got engaged last summer,” he finally said.

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Astoria,” Draco said, unwilling to give more information. The look on Potter’s face made his stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“Do you love her?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

Draco averted his eyes, staring at Potter’s polished shoes instead. He had really made an effort today. Had it truly been for Draco? Or… for Henry? 

“Do you love her?” Potter repeated in an almost pleading tone. Draco pressed his lips together. He couldn’t answer that; there were too many reasons not to. He could feel Potter’s eyes on him, could almost feel his breath on his skin. They were standing too close.

“Will you please stop looking at me like that?” Draco said, pointedly keeping his head down.

“Like what?” Potter whispered.

Draco squared his shoulders before he lifted his head in defiance. “Like you  _ want  _ to look at me.”

Potter’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I don’t,” he whispered. “Believe me, I wish I didn’t want to. I wish—” He leaned closer, sending Draco’s pulse into a frenzy. “I wish things could be different.”

Draco knew this should be his cue to leave. He shouldn’t be here, staring at Potter, only inches apart from him. His lips involuntarily parted when he felt warm, hesitant fingers brushing his. His index finger twitched, moving against Potter’s palm. His hand closed around Draco’s in return. Draco inhaled sharply, curling his toes in his shoes and closing his eyes. Did Potter really want him? Was that it? No, it couldn’t be. He had found someone else. He was in a relationship. He just wanted Draco as a friend. 

“I can’t,” Draco whispered, a sharp pain shooting down his throat as he spoke. 

“I know,” Potter replied quietly, but he didn’t remove his hand. 

Did he know? Draco doubted it. He doubted Potter had any idea how much Draco was suffering.

“I have to go.” 

Before Potter could tighten his grip, Draco withdrew his hand and stormed out of the kitchen, out of the flat, without a backward glance.


	8. Unless you wanna come along

**Sunday, 16 March 2003**

“It’s about time,” Pansy snapped when Draco stepped into his bedroom.

“What are you doing here?”

“So you really forgot,” she huffed. “We were supposed to have dinner.”

“Oh.” He didn’t even remember making plans with her. He felt too exhausted to rack his brain or even have a normal conversation. He just wanted to collapse and never get up again.

“Come on, if we go now, we can still— Draco?”

He had sunken to his knees, pressing his palms against the cold floor.

“Draco, what’s wrong?” He felt Pansy’s hands on his back as she knelt down in front of him. “Merlin, you’re shaking. Draco, what happened?”

“I— I can’t—” Stubbornly, he tried to hold back the tears that were forming in his eyes.

“Talk to me,” Pansy said, her voice full of concern. She pulled him closer, forcing his arms to collapse, until his head was resting in her lap. Without thinking, he grabbed at her dress, clinging to it as if that would lessen the pain.

“I—” He gulped. “I broke up with Astoria.”

He felt Pansy stiffen. “What? But— You—”

Draco pressed his face into her thighs. He just wanted the pain to stop. He didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, Draco!” She cradled his head with one hand, while the other started stroking his hair. “How did she react?”

Pansy knew of their arrangement. She knew how much pressure they had been under.

“She was far too understanding,” he whimpered. Unlike mother, he added in his head. He knew she wanted him to be happy and maybe she’d come around eventually, but there was no doubt she would be hurt. He could already picture the disappointment in her eyes. Draco hated that. But there had been no other way. He couldn’t go through with it.

“You did the right thing, Draco. Our parents shouldn’t dictate every move we make. Not anymore. Not when it comes to this.”

Deep down, Draco agreed. Of course he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have broken up with Astoria. And it wasn’t like he had broken her heart. He knew she wasn’t in love with him. But still, he had ruined their plans.

He had ruined everything.

 

**  
Thursday, April 10 2003**

Draco startled when green flames suddenly erupted in the fireplace of his parlour and a very angry-looking Harry Potter stomped out of it.

“You bastard,” he yelled.

“What the fuck, Potter! What are you doing here?”

Potter ignored his question and, without warning, lunged at Draco, grabbing him by his collar.

“You should have told me,” he growled. “You should have told me you broke off the engagement.”

Draco stared at him, bewildered. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter who told me. You should have been the one to tell me.”

“I didn’t break up with Astoria because of you,” Draco said, very aware that he sounded like a stubborn child.

“Oh?” Potter said. He sounded far too cocky. “Why then?”

“That’s none of your business,” Draco grumbled and tried to wriggle himself out of Potter’s grip.

“I think you’re lying,” Potter said, his eyes narrowing. “There’s no way you’d go against your parents’ wishes unless there’s a very good reason for it. And don’t tell me this wasn’t their idea!”

“Oh, and you think you’re that reason?” Draco sneered.

“Tell me I’m not,” Potter challenged, raising his chin. Draco’s eyes darted down to his mouth, so close to his own. His breath caught in his throat when Potter’s grip tightened, pulling Draco closer to him. “Tell me I’m not the reason you broke up with her.”

“You— You— You’re not—” Draco crumbled under the scrutiny of Potter’s eyes. Before it was too late, he pushed him away. “Fuck you, Potter,” he shouted.

Potter glowered at him, closing the gap between them in one swift motion.

“You’re a fucking liar,” he growled and wound his hands into Draco’s hair. It wasn’t as rough as Draco had expected. “You’re a liar,” Potter repeated and slowly tilted Draco’s head to the side.

Draco didn’t want to, he really, really didn’t want to, but he let out a gasp when Potter’s lips brushed against his neck.

“What— What about your little boy toy?”

“I broke up with him,” Potter grunted, making Draco shudder when he licked the length of his collarbone.

“Oh.” There was nothing else he would have been capable of saying. Slowly, he closed his eyes as Potter started sucking on a particularly sensitive spot, right behind his ear. Instinctively, his hands found their way to Potter’s back, desperately gripping his shirt.

“Merlin, yes,” he gasped as Potter sucked his earlobe into his mouth and his hands wandered down to Draco’s backside. He probably should have put a stop to this, told Potter to leave before the situation escalated completely. But it just felt _so good_.

Before Draco knew what was happening, Potter moved behind him, nibbling at the spot where his neck connected with his shoulder. Draco felt his hands on his waist, slowly moving upwards to his chest. A violent jolt shot through him when Potter applied more pressure to his hands, pulling Draco closer to him, while simultaneously pressing himself against Draco’s back. Fuck. He could feel Potter’s erection against his arse, hard and enticing. He let out a low moan, his desire for Potter, bottled-up for far too long, finally spilling over. He heard Potter inhale sharply.

“Draco,” he breathed against his neck, and suddenly, his hands were everywhere. Draco squirmed and gasped as his entire body started to tingle, kicking his senses into overdrive. Potter’s touch was scorching, his scent was overwhelming and the way he kept grinding his hips against Draco’s arse was just downright obscene.

“Oh fuck,” Potter spluttered as Draco almost cried out. Potter had moved his hand down to Draco’s crotch, palming his cock through his trousers. “You’re already hard.”

“Well, so are you,” Draco said breathlessly, instead of defensively. Potter growled into his neck, his fingers curling around Draco’s cock as much as his trousers allowed.

“We need to get these off. Now.”

Draco felt Potter push him forward, his hands already working on unbuttoning the trousers. Draco kept his eyes closed, too absorbed in the sensation of Potter’s fingertips brushing against his cock.

“Fuck! You’re not wearing any underwear,” Potter groaned. His husky voice sent unimaginable desire through Draco. He almost lost his balance when he bumped against something, but Potter held him in place. His eyes snapped open and he blinked, disoriented. Potter had led him to one of the armchairs; his body was still pressed firmly against Draco’s from behind. Slowly, he pushed down Draco’s trousers, until they pooled around his ankles. Potter’s hands slid up his thighs, pausing when they reached his backside. Draco felt him lean in, his hot breath ghosting over his ear.

“Bend over,” he whispered. A violent shudder ran down Draco’s spine, making him sure he would pass out any second. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, grabbing the arms of the chair. He groaned as he felt Potter’s hard cock against his now bare arse. It was a shame Potter was still fully clothed.

“Get those bloody trousers off, Potter,” Draco demanded, impatiently.

Potter chuckled. “All in good time.”

Draco wanted to protest when he felt the push and the heat of Potter’s body vanish, but his breath caught in his throat when Potter’s fingers softly brushed his back, pushing up his shirt, and he felt Potter’s breath, teasingly, against his skin. Draco moaned as Potter’s lips ghosted over his back, brushing his skin ever so slightly.

“Bloody tease,” he ground out, his grip on the chair tightening. Potter had the nerve to chuckle, before his hands latched onto Draco’s hips and his mouth moved lower. Draco felt him shift, as if he was getting down on his knees. He arched his back inadvertently when Potter started massaging his backside, while his hot breath kept teasing his skin. One of Potter’s hands darted up to Draco’s back, only to be dragged down agonisingly slowly. Draco bit back another moan when Potter’s fingers reached his cleft. He heard Potter hum, before his fingers were suddenly replaced by something hot and wet. Fuck! He couldn’t help but shiver as Potter licked his way from Draco’s balls to the small of his back. Sweet Salazar! A couple more minutes of this and Draco would be ready to come.

Potter made an appreciative sound as Draco trembled beneath his touch.

“Spread your legs a little more,” Potter said. Draco groaned. He tried, but his trousers were in the way, trapping his legs. Potter seemed to notice and quickly helped Draco out of them. Legs spread wide and heart pounding in his chest, Draco waited for Potter’s next move. Warm hands were on his arse in an instant.

“Fuck, yes,” Potter hissed. Draco choked, his cock throbbing, as Potter spread his cheeks apart and his tongue dipped into his cleft once more.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh—”

Draco’s eyes fluttered open. Confused, he blinked a few times, before he realised he was indeed lying in the dark. In his bed. Alone.

Shit!

Panting, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He could still feel Potter’s touch on his skin. Only, unlike in his dream, it didn’t feel arousing anymore. It felt like some invisible force was crashing down on him, stifling him.

It wasn’t the first time he had dreamed about Potter. But never had it felt so real. Never had it been this devastating to wake up, to realise it had only been a dream. His cock seemed to agree. Apparently, there would be no need to take care of it.

He turned on his side, hugging his knees close to his torso. Why, why did it have to be like this? Why wouldn’t the universe stop torturing him? He knew he didn’t deserve happiness. But did he really deserve to suffer like this?

He instantly told his mind to shut up, before the wave of self-loathing could choke him. He knew he wasn’t worthy of Potter. Honestly, he wasn’t worthy of his fiancée, either. Ex-fiancée, he corrected himself. Maybe this _was_ the way it should be, for him to be alone for the rest of his life. And maybe that prospect wouldn’t have seemed so terrifying and gut-wrenching if there hadn’t been this agonising pain, this gaping hole in his chest, exposing his heart, which was screaming and yearning for Potter.

 

  
**  
Friday, 23 May 2003**

“Are you still pouting?”

“I’m not pouting.”

“He’s still pouting.”

“Shut up, Blaise. And you,” Draco pointed a warning finger at Pansy, “you promised to keep your mouth shut. So much for that.”

“Salazar, I hate when you’re in a bad mood,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. “You always drag everyone else down with you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Draco huffed.

“Obviously, I’m far more delightful than you,” she retorted. Her expression turned more thoughtful as she tapped her fingers against her thighs. “Look, it’s been two months.”

“So?”

“Draco, you can’t hide in here forever. You’ve got to move on.”

“And how do you suppose I do that?”

“By going out with us,” Blaise said, pulling Draco out of his armchair. “Honestly, I get it. You’ve had some rough stuff going on. But Pansy is right. You broke up with Astoria for a reason, and now, it’s time to embrace it.”

“Embrace— What?”

“Just stay quiet and come with us,” Pansy said. “If you resist, I swear, Draco, I’ll put a Body-Bind Curse on you!”

“She’s not kidding. She practiced on me, earlier,” Blaise winked.

“Oh, Salazar,” Draco groaned.

Mentally hexing his friends, he let Pansy grab his arm and Apparate them. She didn’t even wait for him to catch his balance before she dragged him into… Where were they? Ah, a pub, it seemed. It was already crowded, which Draco detested. There were no more empty tables. But Pansy didn’t seemed to be bothered by that. She walked straight up to a table in the corner, pulling Draco along with her. Everything happened so fast, he had no time to protest. He did, however, raise a confused eyebrow when he saw dirty blond curls and a warm smile.

“Luna?”

Pansy stepped aside, giving him a clear view of the person sitting next to Luna.

“What—”

“Draco?”

Potter looked as shocked Draco felt.

“What the fuck is going on?” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Did you plan this?” he snarled, not exactly sure who he was asking. Had they all planned this together?

“Did you?” Potter asked, gaping at Luna.

“Harry, this is a good thing,” she said, rubbing his shoulder.

“How is—”

“Harry.” Luna’s expression darkened as Draco had never seen before. “You’ve been an awful mess for weeks now.”

Potter flinched while Draco’s pulse instantly quickened. Really? A strange feeling bubbled up inside him at the thought that Potter might have been as miserable as him. Why though? Could he really dare to hope?

“Same over here,” Pansy said in an irritated tone. Before Draco could snap at her, she grabbed him and pushed him down in a chair.

“I’m not going to sit here and—”

“Yeah, me neither,” Potter said, getting ready to get up.

“Shut up! Both of you,” Pansy bellowed.

Several heads around the pub turned in surprise, but Pansy seemed unimpressed. Man, she could be scary if she wanted to.

“You!” She pointed her index finger at Draco. “You broke up with Astoria, so you better make it worth it.”

“You— You broke up with your fiancée?” Potter looked like he had just been hit with a stunning spell.

“And you!” Pansy turned to Potter. “From what Lovegood told me, you didn’t even have to break up with that bloke you paraded in front of Draco, because he never really was your boyfriend.”

“What?” Draco spluttered.

“You told her— Why are you even talking to her?” Potter exclaimed, turning to Luna.

“Apparently,” Pansy said, ignoring Potter’s outburst, “he’s an Auror. They used to train together, and now Potter owes him a favour.”

“You— You—” Draco’s mind reeled. “You weren’t dating Henry?”

“You aren’t engaged anymore?” Potter retorted, gobsmacked.

“Clearly,” Blaise said with a smug grin, “you two have a lot to talk about. We’ll leave you to it.”

Draco saw Luna join Pansy and Blaise as they all turned to leave, but his brain couldn’t process what was happening. Was it really true? Had Potter seriously asked this Henry guy to _pretend_ to be his boyfriend? Why? Why would he do that?

“You little shit,” Draco growled.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Potter growled back. “Why didn’t you tell me about your break up?”

“We weren’t speaking,” Draco said curtly.

“Right. And whose fault is that?”

“YOU—” Draco tried to collect himself. He didn’t care for a scene right in the middle of a crowded pub. “You pretended to date someone else,” he hissed.

“What was I supposed to do?”

“What— Seriously? Why did you even do it?”

Potter scowled at the table.

“Were you going to marry him, too?” Draco scoffed. “Out of spite? Do you still have to beat me at every—”

“I wanted to make you jealous, you stupid git!”

Draco froze. Everything he had wanted to say suddenly evaporated like smoke in his mind. Jealous? Potter had wanted to make him jealous? Well, mission accomplished. But… why would—

“It was such a dumb idea,” Potter muttered, his eyes still fixed on the table. “I wasn’t even sure if it was going to work. You weren’t— You never— But I thought you might—”

Might what?

“You told me you were engaged and I snapped, okay?”

Draco wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating or not. Granted, on more than one occasion he had gotten the impression Potter might think he wasn’t unattractive, but Potter had been drunk almost every time. Draco wasn’t one to just jump to conclusions. Could he now? Was Potter really saying… he liked Draco?

“Why was me being engaged such a big deal?” Draco asked. He needed to hear it. He needed Potter to say it.

“Fuck you,” Potter spat.

“You know,” Draco said slowly, “you say that every time I ask you—”

“Because you already know! What, you want to gloat?” Potter seethed.

“I just want to know what the fuck is going on,” Draco shot back, slamming his fist down on the table.

“What?” Potter gaped at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

Draco didn’t answer, holding Potter’s gaze defiantly.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me!” Potter threw his hands in the air, shaking his head. “Even I’m not that oblivious!”

“Are you calling me stupid?” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“At this point, I think I have every right to do so,” Potter retorted.

“Fuck you, Potter! You act so high and mighty, but you told me you just wanted to be friends.”

“I never said I wanted to be _just_ friends.”

“Oh, so this is all my fault?”

“You were leading me on!”

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to this bollocks,” Draco barked, jumping out of his seat so fast, the chair fell over. “You don’t get to make me the bad guy anymore.”

As soon as he got outside, Draco hesitated. If he walked away now, would that be it? Technically, he was single now; as was Potter.

Draco let out a humourless laugh. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

Just as he drew his wand and got ready to Apparate, somebody grabbed his shoulder and whirled him around.

“You’re seriously going to leave?” Potter barked. “I can’t believe you!”

“Why? Because the fight is only over when you’ve won?” Draco huffed.

“Why can’t we just talk about this like normal people?”

“Oh, so you think I’m some kind of abomination?”

“No, I think you’re a coward!”

Snarling, Draco narrowed his eyes. How dare he!

“You have no idea—”

“Oh yeah?” Potter interrupted him. “Then prove it! Go to Cho’s wedding with me tomorrow. Or are you too much of a wimp to—”

“FINE,” Draco bellowed, fuming. “But you have to pick me up at the Manor.”

“FINE,” Potter yelled back. “I’ll be there at nine. Wear the Muggle suit.”

“Duh.”

“I swear to Merlin, Draco—”

“Whatever,” he spat. He was so mad, he couldn’t even look at Potter. “Don’t be late.”

He took a step backwards and Apparated to the Manor. He was still shaking with anger when he tossed his clothes on the floor and climbed into bed, completely ignorant to the fact that it was only seven o’clock.

Who did Potter think he was? That wanker! He would pay for calling Draco a coward! Draco would prove to him he was anything but! If it was the last thing he would do!

He turned to his side, clutching his blanket and shoving one hand under the pillow. Bloody Potter!

As Draco kept repeating that over and over for hours in his mind, the prickling sensation on the back of his neck got more intense, accompanied by the fluttery feeling of his stomach doing somersaults.

Bloody Potter, he thought one last time as his eyes fluttered closed and the tiniest of smiles slowly crept its way onto his lips.

  
  
**  
  
Saturday, 24 May 2003 **

Why? Why had Draco agreed to come here with Potter?

Apparently, it didn’t matter he had already seen Potter wearing that bloody Muggle suit when they had picked it out together; it knocked the breath out of him nonetheless every time he glanced over at him.

He hadn’t been able to say anything but gibberish since Potter had shown up, looking all handsome and spectacular, complimenting Draco on how good he looked, consequently frying his brain. His magic had gone bonkers again when Potter had touched his arm to Apparate them, to which Potter had only grinned knowingly. Draco’s mother would go ballistic when she found out he had destroyed one of her favourite vases. But Draco couldn’t care less about that right now. Right now, he was far more concerned about not making a fool out of himself while he stood there awkwardly, eyeing Potter out of the corner of his eyes. He looked uncomfortable as well, fidgeting with his tie. Little beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, glistening in the sunlight. It was an exceptionally warm day, which Potter didn’t seem to like. It probably didn’t help that the wedding was about to be held right here, in Chang’s garden, with no shade and a bunch of Muggles, which made it impossible to use magic.

“You, err, you want something to drink?” Potter asked. Draco stared at his lips as he spoke, realising too late that he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it.

“Oh, um, no.”

“Right.” Potter licked his lips and absentmindedly scratched his beard. Fuck! Was he trying to drive Draco mad?

“Do you want to—”

“Merlin’s beard! It’s Harry Potter!”

They both turned around to find an old man gaping at them. Well, at Potter.

“Mr Potter, such an honour to finally meet you. Howard Chamberlain.” He grabbed Potter’s hand with both of his and shook it enthusiastically. Potter smiled awkwardly. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but I’ve been dying to know. There have been many tales about your victory over You-Know-Who.” He leaned closer and Draco noticed he was still clutching Potter’s hand. “Is it true you defeated him with the Elder Wand? Do you still have it?”

Draco rolled his eyes, ready to tell the wizard off. Before he got the chance, however, Potter patted the old man’s arm.

“That’s a secret I’ll be taking to my grave, I’m afraid,” he said.

Annoyance flickered over the wizard’s face, which he quickly tried to mask with a smile.

“Of course.” Finally, he let go of Potter’s hand but kept scrutinising him. “I was very sorry to hear about your relationship with young Mrs Weasley. Are you here on your own?”

Before Draco knew what was happening, he felt a hand on his hip which pulled him against Potter’s side.

“I’m not, actually,” Potter said, his lips stretching into a devious smile. The heat of the sun suddenly seemed to burn Draco alive. It was the same gesture Potter had used to make Draco jealous. Only, now, he was the one Potter was claiming.

They hadn’t discussed the details of today’s… arrangement. Yes, Draco was here as Potter’s date, but they hadn’t talked about whether or not they would be open about it. While Draco knew his mother had strong suspicions about his preference, it had been very much implied on numerous occasions he was never to make it public knowledge. Well, so much for that.

It was more than surprising that Potter was acting like this, actually. After everything he had told him, Draco had been sure he wanted to keep a low profile, especially when it came to his private life. All it would take was some shady reporter behind a bush, taking some pictures, and the whole Wizarding World would go bonkers. Speaking of which…

The old wizard was still gawking at them, shock written all over his face.

“But— But that’s Draco Malfoy,” he spluttered. Draco’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. Even though he wanted to hex the wizard, his eyes inadvertently wandered over to Potter’s face when he felt him pulling him closer.

“I’m a lucky guy, aren’t I?” Potter said, his eyes piercing Draco’s. The world around them suddenly seemed to come to a halt. Draco knew Potter had just said that to provoke the old wizard, but the way he was looking at him… It almost made Draco believe Potter actually meant it. He had no idea how long they were standing there like this, staring at each other, until somebody bumped into Draco, yanking him back to reality. Potter seemed a bit startled, too, and removed his hand from Draco’s hip.

“He’s gone,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder.

“I thought you had a problem with disappointing people,” Draco said quietly, feeling more confused than ever.

“He was being a dick,” Potter said with a frown.

“Was grabbing me really necessary, though?” Draco grumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“He didn’t even acknowledge you!” Potter said, heatedly. “It’s obvious you’re my date, but he was ignorant on purpose. He talked about you as if you weren’t standing right next to me.”

Draco blinked. Was this what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Potter’s chivalry? Even though Draco wanted to point out he was more than capable of fighting his own battles, he had to admit, it didn’t feel too bad to have Potter defend him like that. Not bad at all.

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Potter murmured. His voice sounded raspier than before.

“What?” Draco knitted his brows together in confusion. What was he doing?

“Biting your lip like that.”

Draco couldn’t suppress the shiver that seized him at hearing the longing in Potter’s voice. This time, he was absolutely sure he wasn’t imagining things. Potter wanted him. Merlin, if only he knew how much Draco wanted _him_!

“You want to get out of here?” Potter whispered.

“But the ceremony hasn’t even started yet.”

Potter stepped closer, until their bodies were almost touching. Draco felt his breath on his face and shivered in spite of himself. It took everything in him to hold still when Potter slowly trailed his fingers across Draco’s cheek and then — Draco gulped — down his neck.

“But… won’t Chang be mad if you—”

“You really want to talk about Cho right now?”

He really, really didn’t.

“Okay, let’s go,” Draco croaked.

“Yours or mine?”

It was hard, trying to form coherent sentences. _Yours or mine?_ Merlin, his knees were getting weak. This was it, wasn’t it? He’d finally have Potter to himself. Desire flared up inside him, mingling with an undeniable rush of nervousness. Potter was experienced, at least far more experienced than Draco. Maybe it would at least help to be in the familiarity of his own home?

“Mine,” he finally said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Potter nodded and Draco felt his fingers on his arms. Bracing himself for the uncomfortable suction of Apparition, he squared his shoulders and balled his hands into fists. He startled when warm fingers suddenly closed around his right fist. Instinctively, his muscles loosened. Potter lost no time intertwining their fingers.

“Before we go…”

Draco let himself be lead into the house, into the hallway, where Potter stopped and pulled him close.

“This is your chance to get out of this,” he murmured, his eyes searching Draco’s.

“What?” Draco breathed. He was too dizzy for a clever response.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Potter whispered, his gaze flicking down to Draco’s mouth. Merlin, why would he want him to stop? “Draco, do you want me to—”

“Don’t stop,” Draco croaked, feeling like he was melting in Potter’s arms. How long had he wanted this? How often had he dreamed about this? How long had he yearned for Potter, wanting him so badly it had driven him insane?

Every fiber of him seemed to be prickling, his heart jigging around in his chest in anticipation. Would reality be able to keep up with his dreams? Would Potter be really as good as Draco had imagined? Would he be gentle? Rough? Would he— Sweet Mother of everything that is holy!

If Potter hadn’t held him securely in his arms, Draco was sure he would have floated away. The press of Potter’s lips against his, the soft scrape of his beard against Draco’s skin, his intoxicating smell, the way his hands were digging into Draco’s back, trying to pull him closer still… Dreams really couldn’t keep up with reality.

He blinked when Potter slowly pulled back, his breathing ragged and uneven. His eyes were soft and unguarded and Draco’s heart skipped a beat when the dark skin around them crinkled and Potter gave him a shy smile.

Seized by something that was coiling in the pit of his belly, Draco threw his arms around Potter’s neck. He felt Potter’s lips part against his as he let out a little gasp. Next thing he knew, he was the one gasping as Potter started sucking on his bottom lip. Sweet, sweet Salazar! Draco made a gurgling sound at the back of his throat when Potter released his lip, only to caress Draco’s tongue with his own. He curled his fingers around the back of Potter’s neck, feeling certain he would fall over if he didn’t clutch at him as tightly as he could. Potter groaned in what seemed to be approval before Draco suddenly felt the violent jerk of being Apparated without warning.

It was mere seconds before they had solid ground under their feet again and Draco felt something hard against his back. A wall? Oh, no, it was a door. Before he got the chance to snap at Potter for not giving him any warning, he was pinned against said door, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh, Merlin,” he gasped, as Potter sucked his earlobe into his mouth. That man had some serious skills with his tongue.

“Fuck, you smell bloody fantastic,” Potter growled, pressing his body even more firmly against Draco’s. The door handle was digging uncomfortably into his side, but Draco couldn’t be bothered with that. He let his head fall back against the door as Potter kissed his neck, eliciting all kinds of obscene sounds from him.

“Where are we exactly?” Potter murmured against Draco’s skin.

Draco cracked open one eye, internally smirking when he realised where Potter had Apparated them to. The prat had never even been to this part of the Manor, but _of course_ he had almost perfect aim.

“Outside my bedroom,” Draco whispered.

Potter pulled back, an odd expression on his face.

“What?” Draco asked, taken aback. Potter seemed to consider something, but didn’t answer before lowering his head to kiss Draco’s neck again. “Oh!”

“You let me Apparate inside the Manor?” Potter muttered.

“Yes?” Draco said, distracted by Potter licking his collarbone.

Potter hummed in response and pushed Draco’s shirt out of the way to suck on the spot where his neck connected with his shoulder.

“Fuck, Potter!”

Draco felt him smile against his skin, sending a tingle down his spine.

“I like the sound of that,” Potter said, his voice low.

Draco inhaled sharply and instantly grabbed Potter’s face with both of his hands, pulling it back to eye level. He stroked his beard with his thumb, remembering how unnerved he had been when he had first seen it, how much he had wanted to touch it… It was overwhelming, finally being able to, being allowed to touch it…

Slowly, he pulled Potter to him, his heart giving a violent jolt when their lips brushed against each other. Potter made a noise that went straight to Draco’s groin. His hands flew up to tangle in Draco’s hair and his leg was suddenly wedged between Draco’s thighs, rubbing deliciously against his cock.

“Merlin, I want you so bad,” Potter mumbled between kisses. Draco could only groan in agreement.

Intent on not breaking the kiss, he clumsily fumbled for the door handle. He almost fell backwards when the door suddenly opened, pulling Potter along with him. They both blinked, the sudden brightness of the chandelier in Draco’s room piercing their eyes.

Draco swallowed hard when he noticed the way Potter was looking at him.

“Merlin, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, brushing a few strands of hair out of Draco’s face.

Countless people had called him beautiful, handsome, attractive… It usually meant nothing to Draco. He knew he was good looking. It wasn’t the compliment he was craving. And yet, the fact that _Potter_ had said it, with the way he’d said it, almost awestruck, made Draco momentarily lose his balance.

“What do you want?” Potter breathed, his finger softly stroking Draco’s temple. “Tell me what you want.”

“I— I want…” Fuck, what was he supposed to say? “I— I want you,” he said, feeling incredibly stupid. He suspected Potter was asking him for something more specific, but… this was hard. He had never been with anyone before and while he technically knew more than enough about how this usually worked, he couldn’t just tell Potter what he wanted. What if Potter didn’t want what he wanted? What if Potter would laugh at him? It was so much easier in his dreams, when it wasn’t actually Potter he was talking to. But… he could try… something simple? “I— I want… I want you… inside me.”

Draco stood perfectly still as he waited for Potter’s reaction. His lips parted, but if Draco hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Potter was suddenly paralysed.

“Did— Did I say something wrong?” Draco murmured. He hated feeling insecure. But he had no idea what Potter was thinking.

“Um, no,” Potter croaked. “But, given the circumstances, I, err, think it would be easier if you were the one to… err…”

“Next time,” Draco said, immediately mentally slapping himself. These two words revealed much more than he was ready to admit out loud.

“Okay,” Potter whispered and Draco’s heart stopped. _Okay._ Funny, how such a simple word could make him feel like he was flying.

Feeling much bolder and encouraged, he put a hand on Potter’s chest and leaned closer, until their noses were touching.

“How do you like it?” he whispered, hoping Potter didn’t hear the quiver in his voice. He didn’t know what made him more nervous, the prospect of Potter telling him what he wanted, or if he’d simply showed him. The anticipation was killing him.

Potter playfully nudged Draco’s nose with his own and then, to Draco’s surprise, he slowly traced Draco’s bottom lip with his tongue.

“Like this,” he said, huskily, grabbing Draco’s hips and kissing him in a way Draco had never been kissed before. It was as though Potter had just pulled him down underwater, leaving Draco gasping for air. He never wanted it to stop. Before he even knew what was happening, Potter yanked off his suit jacket and pulled his shirt out of his trousers. Draco almost yelped when he felt Potter’s fingers against his bare stomach. Obviously, Potter didn’t want to waste any more time. He whirled Draco around and started sucking on the back of his neck, his erection pressing against Draco’s arse. Fuck, this was just like in his last dream.

“You— You want to take me like this?” Draco croaked, unthinkingly.

“Merlin, yes,” Potter breathed, his hands darting down to unbutton Draco’s trousers. It only took a few seconds until his hand was shoved inside Draco’s pants and his hand was wrapped around Draco’s cock.

“Fuck!” Draco inadvertently arched his back as Potter started to stroke him, letting his head fall back on Potter’s shoulder.

“Merlin, you’re so hot,” Potter breathed in his ear. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Something in Draco paused. He liked the idea of Potter bending him over, but… he wanted to look at Potter, he wanted to see his face when he pushed inside him. He wanted to look at him right now, while he had Draco’s cock in his hands.

He slowly turned around, careful to not have his cock yanked off, and captured Potter’s lips in another kiss. Potter seemed startled at first, but lost no time in reciprocating the kiss.

Overwhelmingly distracted by the sensation of Potter’s tongue pushing against his and his hand tightening around his cock, Draco slowly pushed Potter’s suit jacket down his shoulders and fumbled around until he found the buttons of his shirt. As soon as he had unbuttoned one of them, Potter froze. Confused, Draco pulled back.

Potter was looking at him as though he was a boggart, presenting him with his worst fear. But why? What had Draco done?

“Could we— Err…”

Draco studied him closely. He seemed incredibly nervous all of a sudden. What was going on?

“Can we, um, turn off the lights?” Potter asked.

“You want to do it in the dark?” Draco cocked his head to the side, his mind racing. Why would Potter want to turn off the lights? Oh, Merlin! He was trying to be chivalrous again, wasn’t he? “Potter, I may be a virgin, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can handle this.”

“It’s not about—” Potter bit his lip. “Err, okay… then, maybe, err, we could keep our clothes on?”

“That… would complicate things,” Draco said, trying to push down the disappointment that was quickly bubbling up inside him. “I thought you wanted to fuck me. I mean… you’re still holding my cock.”

“I do,” Potter mumbled. To Draco’s horror, he slowly let go of his cock. “But… um… okay, maybe… we could at least keep our shirts on?”

Draco wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw Potter’s eyes flicker down to Draco’s hands. Or was it… his arms?

Oh.

“You don’t want to see it,” he whispered, understanding hitting him like a slap across the face. “You don’t want to see the Dark Mark.”

Potter frowned, seemingly taken aback. Seriously? Was he really trying to feign ignorance now?

Draco stared at him while his insides started to tighten painfully. It felt like he was free-falling into a black hole, which was sucking all traces of happiness out of him, leaving him empty and cold.

“You don’t want me,” he breathed, flinching at the sharp stab he felt to his chest.

“What?” Potter looked incredulous. But Draco wouldn’t be fooled by him anymore.

“You think I’m disgusting!” He pushed Potter away and hastily zipped up his trousers. “You just wanted a quick one-off. Of course! I’m not good enough for anything else!”

It hurt so much, voicing one of his biggest fears. How ironic. Suddenly, Potter had turned into his personal boggart. How could Draco have been so stupid? Of course Potter didn’t really want _him_.

“Draco, that’s not— This has nothing to do with your Dark Mark.”

“What other reason is there? Tell me this isn’t because of who I am!”

“It’s not—”

“No, that’s exactly it! You can’t go around, fucking random people because you’re Harry Potter. So you lured me in with your innocent act. Are you really that desperate? You really need to get off that badly, you’d do it with someone who disgusts you?”

“You don’t disgust me,” Potter said, his voice breaking.

“You didn’t even want to look at me! You turned me around so you wouldn’t have to see my face! That’s how disgusted you are by me! Who were you going to picture while you fucked me, huh? Wood? Weasley?”

“Fuck you, Draco!” Potter bellowed.

“You know what, you’re the disgusting one, Potter! You disgust me!”

Honestly, Draco didn’t know what he had expected after that, but watching Potter grab his suit jacket and storm out of his room hurt almost as much as being crucioed by the Dark Lord.

Unable to hold himself up any longer, he sank to his knees. He was so stupid. Of course Potter didn’t want him. Nobody wanted him. Still, he had thought Potter was different. He had thought Potter might… might…

“Stupid,” he hissed at himself. “So, so stupid!”

That would teach him. He should have known better than to let someone in, let himself be fooled like that. Honestly, Potter was no better than the rest of the bloody Wizarding World. If anything, he was worse. He was a fucking hypocrite.

Maybe Draco should have stuck to his dreams. Yes, they couldn’t keep up with reality, but reality had the cruel tendency to choke off any kind of hope, even for someone who usually didn’t dare to hope at all.

  
  
**  
Thursday, 5 June 2003**

“Are you going to open it or are you going to stare at it until your eyeballs fall out of your head?”

“Shut up, Pansy.”

“The only reason I’m not going to argue with you is because it’s your birthday. Otherwise I’d be telling you what a prick you are.”

“I know it’s from him. I’m not going to open it.”

“Then send it back.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it is.” Pansy leaned forward, brandishing the champagne flute in her hand. “Ooooh, you want to know what’s inside, don’t you?”

“It’s just a letter,” Draco snapped.

“You want me to read it?” Pansy smirked.

“No.”

Before Draco could react, Pansy snatched the letter from him and ran to the other side of the room, tearing it open.

“Pansy!”

“Draco,” she began reading, “I’m very sorry about what happened between us. It’s not what you think.” She paused, taking a sip of champagne. “What _did_ happen between you two?”

Draco just shook his head, hoping Potter hadn’t gone into too much detail in his letter.

“You’re no fun,” Pansy muttered before she continued reading. “I hope you’ll let me explain. Until then, happy birthday.” She rolled her eyes. “That is the most boring letter I’ve ever seen. Oh, wait, what’s this? Oh my!”

“What? What?” Draco jumped up and hurried over to her.

“That’s rather generous, even for someone as loaded as him,” Pansy said, even though she didn’t sound very impressed.

When Draco saw what Pansy was holding, his mouth went dry. It was a cheque. For the school.

“Oh really?” Draco growled through gritted teeth. “That bastard!”

“Merlin, Draco, what did Potter do to you?”

Without answering, Draco grabbed the cheque and the letter and stomped over to the fireplace. With far too much floo powder in hand, he yelled, “Harry Potter’s flat!”

If Draco hadn’t known any better, he would have said Potter had been waiting for him. He jumped off the sofa before Draco even stepped into his living room. His expression was hopeful, yet hesitant.

“Draco—”

“You think you can buy me?” Draco shouted. “You think you can just shove your money at me and all will be forgiven and forgotten? I’m not some dirty whore!”

“Draco, that’s not what I—”

“Shut up, Potter, I don’t want to hear it! This is it! Find somebody else to screw around with!”

“For fuck’s sake, Draco, will you just listen to me? What happened that night has nothing to do with you or your bloody Dark Mark.”

“You couldn’t get out of the Manor fast enough!”

“You went completely ballistic on me! You wouldn’t have listened to a word I said! You’re not listening now!”

“Because it’s all bollocks!”

“Draco, I’m telling you, this has nothing—”

“What, then?”

Potter hesitated, fumbling with the hem of his jumper. “It’s not that easy for me to say,” he mumbled.

“Because it’s not real.”

“What?”

“You’re just trying to make something up, so I’ll sleep with you.”

Potter’s eyes widened, his face twisting in horror. “You really think I’d be capable of that?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Draco yelled. “I can’t trust you!”

“You know what, if you really think I’m that kind of person, I can’t trust you either.”

“Great, it’s finally settled then,” Draco hissed. “Oh, and by the way, I’m keeping your cheque, for the children. But you and I, we’re done!” He caught one last glimpse of Potter before he stepped into the fireplace again and immediately wished he hadn’t. It made his heart squeeze painfully to see so much hurt in his eyes, but there was no other way. Potter had hurt him too much. There was no excuse in the world that would ever make up for it.

  
  
**  
Wednesday, 23 July 2003**

The Lovegood’s home was such a peculiar place. Draco was surprised when he found out Luna still lived with her father. On the other hand, it made sense, since they were running the Quibbler together now.

When Luna had invited him over for tea, he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, after only five minutes of sitting down with her in her room, it was pretty clear she had an agenda.

“I’m not talking to Potter,” he said, tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb. “There’s nothing you can say that will—”

“Draco,” Luna said with a sigh. “He’s suffering.”

“So? I’m suffering, too.”

“And have you ever thought about why that is?”

“What?”

“It’s absolutely unnecessary.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.”

Draco paused, taking in Luna’s serious expression. “He told you.”

“He did.”

“Great.”

“He didn’t tell me everything,” she clarified. “But he did tell me what you thought this was about.”

“I know what this is about.”

“You really believe that? You really believe Harry would do something like that?”

Draco didn’t answer and quietly took a sip of his tea.

“He really likes you, Draco,” Luna said softly.

Draco flinched. “He hurt me,” he murmured.

“Because you like him, too. Only the people we care about can hurt us like this.”

Draco hated that Luna was so insightful. It made hiding his feelings so much harder.

Exhaling loudly, he leaned back in his chair and buried his hands in his hair. “I have no idea what to think anymore. There were times I thought he really might like me. We talked about so many things, he trusted me with so many secrets,” he let out a pained laugh at the memories. “I should have known it was all too good to be true. Honestly, the night he made dinner I should have—”

“Wait, he made dinner for you?” Luna asked, her eyes wide.

“Yeah. Honestly, in hindsight, it almost seems like it was meant to be a date, but—”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Luna interrupted him. “Actually, I’m very certain it was meant to be a date, but my point is… He made you dinner and you actually… You saw him eat?”

Draco frowned at her. She sounded like it was a big deal. “Of course I—” He paused. Wait. He had noticed something strange about that, hadn’t he? When Potter had brought him breakfast, when they had been at the restaurant and at Potter’s flat… he had barely eaten anything. He had looked tortured and uncomfortable. “Luna,” he said, his tone suddenly urgent. “Is there something wrong with him?”

Luna looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek. “I think you should talk to Harry about that.”

“Luna, please,” Draco beseeched her. “If there’s something I should know—” He clamped his mouth shut, unable to finish the sentence. He didn’t have any right to meddle in Potter’s life anymore.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Luna said, tilting her head.

Draco said nothing, while his gaze was fixed on the floor. They both stayed silent for a while, until Luna got up and started rummaging through a pile of magazines on her desk.

“Did Harry ever tell you about his childhood?” she asked.

“How his bloody Muggle relatives starved him?” Draco grumbled. “He did.”

Luna nodded. “It’s more than that, though.”

Draco’s eyes widened. What else did they do to him?

“Did he tell you they made him sleep in a cupboard?”

“WHAT?”

“Yeah. They treated him in such an awful way. It still makes me sad.”

“Those bastards! Thank Merlin he got away from them,” Draco muttered, rage still coursing through him.

“That’s the point, though, isn’t it? He didn’t really get away from them.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s part of him, what they did all those years ago. It shaped the person he’s become and he’s obviously still haunted by it, even if he may not realise it. He thinks he doesn’t deserve anything, he always puts others first because he thinks that’s how it should be… He has no sense of self-worth.”

Luna seemed to have found what she was looking for. She sat down beside Draco, several magazines in her hand. “I don’t like how he unconsciously punishes himself over and over for something that isn’t even his fault,” she said quietly. “And things like these aren’t helping.”

She handed Draco the magazines with an uncharacteristically serious expression. The only magazine he recognised was Witch Weekly. The issue was about a year old. Draco almost choked as he looked at the cover, at the headline in bold red letters.

**_Plump Potter! The Boy Who Lived… to let himself go!_ **

Draco’s mouth dropped open. His eyes quickly scanned the other two.

**_Inside the Chosen One’s unhealthy lifestyle!_ **

**_Harry Potter - From heartthrob to sad slob!_ **

Beneath the headline was a picture of Potter in a café, eating treacle tart. All of the magazines had pictures of Potter that seemed to catch him in a rather unflattering light.

“They seriously printed this?” Draco asked. Why hadn’t he seen these before?

“The articles inside are even worse,” Luna said. “I kept them, in case we needed them to prove the invasion of Harry’s privacy. Luckily, Hermione got them all to stop selling them after a few days, although none of us have any idea how she did it. But I guess it was too late. Those articles really got to him. Harry didn’t admit it, of course, but that’s when he stopped eating when anybody was around.”

Draco’s heart gave a painful squeeze. “Those bastards,” he growled. “I can’t believe this!”

“It’s awful,” Luna agreed. “Ron tried to talk to him about it once, but he immediately closed up. We tried to ease him back into it, we thought it would be okay for him if only close friends were around, but he found ways around it. He’d show up late into the evening, to make sure dinner was already over, things like that.”

Draco’s mind raced as he tried to process everything Luna had just told him. Never in a million years would he have expected that Potter was hiding such an awful secret. He startled when he felt Luna’s hand on his wrist. He hadn’t realised his hands were shaking.

“That’s why I was so surprised he made dinner for you,” she said with a ghost of a smile.

“Yeah, well, we didn’t really get to eat it.”

“Still, Draco.” Luna squeezed his wrist reassuringly. “He’s obviously trying. You must be very important to him.”

Draco’s stomach rumbled uncomfortably at that. Was it really true? Had Potter been trying? This whole time? But the way he had acted on the day of Chang’s wedding… Why had he…

“Oh… Oh no.” Realisation hit Draco hard, like a Bludger to the head. “I’m such an idiot,” he murmured to himself.

But how should Draco have known? With all this new-found information, it was suddenly painfully obvious why Potter had asked to turn off the lights, why he had wanted to keep his shirt on.

“Luna, I’m sorry, but I have to go!” He jumped off the sofa and stumbled towards the fireplace.

“Are you going to see Harry?”

Draco nodded. He watched as Luna approached him, a warm smile on her face. She pulled him into a tight hug and patted his back.

“Be patient with him, Draco,” she whispered.

Draco wrapped his arms around her, letting her warmth seep into him.

“Thank you, Luna. Thank you for your help.”

She pulled away, her silvery-blue eyes glistening.

“Of course, Draco. That’s what friends are for.”


	9. You’ve ruined my life

“Potter! Potter!!”

Draco knew he was too frantic as he crossed Potter’s living room, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want another minute to go by with Potter being self-destructive.

“Potter!”

Where the bloody hell was he? Was he not at home? Draco barged into the kitchen, only to find it empty. He stomped back into the hallway, frowning at the bathroom door. It was ajar, but the room was dark. That only left… his bedroom.

Without hesitation, Draco began banging against the door.

“Potter!”

Letting his impatience get the better of him, he threw it open and marched inside.

“What— What— Draco?”

“Potter.” Draco gave his disheveled hair and droopy eyes a disapproving look. “What are you doing in bed? It’s the middle of the day.”

Potter seemed doubtful if he was really awake. He shook his head several times, until he seemed convinced Draco was really standing in his bedroom. “Mind your own business,” he said, defensively. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

“If you didn’t want me here, you would have put the wards back up.”

“You made it pretty clear— Ugh, you know what, no.” Draco’s heart sank at the tortured expression on his face. “If you came here for another fight, so you can accuse me—”

“I’m sorry,” Draco blurted. Even though he had used those two words more in the last four years than ever before in his life, they still felt foreign on his tongue. He watched carefully as Potter’s face went blank.

“You— What?” He straightened himself, one hand slowly closing into a fist on the duvet. “What exactly are you sorry for?”

“I—” Draco had no idea where to begin. It was more than obvious Potter had trouble talking about it. He had told Draco so much about himself, about his thoughts and fears, but he had never mentioned what Luna had told him. “I had no idea what you were going through,” he said quietly.

The effect these words had on Potter was instantaneous. Apprehension clouded his features as his muscles visibly clenched. “What are you talking about?” he asked, his tone wary.

“Don’t get mad,” Draco said, raising his hands. “She didn’t want to tell me at first. She said you’re the one I should be talking—”

“She, who?”

“Luna.”

Potter stilled. “What did she tell you?”

Draco could see the unease in his eyes. He suspected Potter didn’t realise how much Luna knew, how she and the rest of his friends had put the pieces together; but he seemed to be contemplating the possibility they might have caught on. It obviously terrified him.

“Can I sit down?” Draco asked, pointing at a spot beside Potter. He seemed reluctant but slowly moved aside to make some room. As Draco walked up to him, Potter’s expression hardened. He avoided his gaze, hugging his knees close to his chest.

“This isn’t an intervention,” Draco said, carefully sitting down. “I just want to talk. I never would have said those things to you if I had known…” He broke off, unsure of how to phrase it. What Luna had told him sounded plausible but he wanted to hear it from Potter. “I genuinely thought— I thought it was about the Dark Mark. Or about you… not really wanting _me_.” It took so much to say these words out loud. They were easily yelled in a fight. But now that he knew Potter was battling different demons, he was more inclined to show Potter his own insecurities.

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Potter murmured, staring at his knees. “Well, it’s got everything to do with you, but that—” He sighed. “I just— I hate that I feel this way, but… I can’t do anything about it.”

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t want to—”

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. But how am I supposed to understand if you don’t tell me?” Potter’s features twisted into something tortured. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything, Draco added, “I need to know, Potter. Otherwise, we really are done.”

It sounded harsher than he had meant it. What he had wanted to say was that they wouldn’t stand a chance if they weren’t completely honest with each other. The thought horrified him, but he didn’t want Potter to go on like this and he knew as soon as Potter would open up, he’d expect the same from him. It wasn’t something Draco was particularly looking forward to, but he was willing to try.

“That’s not fair,” Potter murmured, his face set in a stubborn scowl.

“None of this is fair,” Draco retorted. “Look, you told me you were worried about disappointing people, but forget about that. You shouldn’t care about what other people think.”

“I know that,” Potter muttered. “But… I care about what _you_ think.”

Draco paused. This kind of sentimentality wasn’t exactly something he was used to. And while he mentally admitted he felt the same way about Potter, he couldn’t shake the crushing sense of responsibility Potter had just burdened him with. So… what now? This was getting them nowhere. Draco wondered how far he could go without hurting Potter unnecessarily. He always acted so strong and confident, but he had shown Draco glimpses of his vulnerable side and if that wasn’t an indication he trusted Draco, what was?

“So…” Draco brushed the duvet with his fingertips, searching for the right words. “Luna showed me… the magazines.”

He instantly knew he didn’t need to explain any further. The look on Potter’s face said everything.

“She knows,” he whispered, resignation ringing loudly in his voice.

“Yeah. She’s worried about you.” Tentatively, he put his hand on Potter’s knees. “I’m worried about you.”

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. Potter looked up, his eyes full of defensiveness.

“I know it’s not normal,” he said. “I know I’m a freak.”

“Potter,” Draco said, trying to stay calm. “You’re so many things, but you’re not a freak.” At that, Potter huffed and turned away again. Draco had no idea what to say. He tried to put himself in Potter’s shoes, tried to imagine how agonising it must be for him. “Potter, please,” he said, beseechingly, “tell me. Just tell me what happened that night at the Manor.”

“I thought Luna already told you everything,” Potter said, stubbornly.

“Don’t be mad at her. She was only trying to help. Besides, if it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” Slowly, Draco let his hand glide down and curled his fingers around Potter’s forearm. “And hearing theories from Luna isn’t the same as you telling me what happened. I want to know what you were thinking when… we were together.”

Potter looked torn. It took several moments until he finally spoke. “I really like you, Draco,” he whispered.

Whatever Draco had expected, it certainly hadn’t been this. He tried to tune out the sudden whooshing in his ears and concentrate on Potter’s raspy voice instead.

“It’s almost like… when I’m around you, things don’t feel as bad.”

Draco was grateful Potter paused after that. That was a lot to take in.

“I— I thought—” He felt the muscles in Potter’s arm clench. “I thought I would be okay with— I thought I could—”

“Could what?” Draco said softly. Potter only shook his head. “What are you so afraid of? What could be so bad you can’t tell me?”

“I— I kept thinking—”

Seeing Potter struggling like this made Draco want to punch someone; Potter’s Muggle relatives, those awful reporters — he would hex them all if they’d ever crossed paths.

“What were you thinking?” he said quietly, hoping it would encourage Potter to finally say it.

“How could someone as beautiful as you—”

Draco froze. Potter wasn’t going to say what Draco thought he was going to say, right? Because if he did, Draco would have to shout at him. Again. Knowing that Potter would immediately close off if he did that, he tried to stay calm and wait for Potter to continue. When he did, his voice was barely a whisper.

“How could someone as beautiful as you want to be with someone… someone like me.”

Potter couldn’t be serious. But obviously, he was.

“Potter,” Draco said, carefully shifting closer. “Potter, look at me.” He placed a hand on his cheek, marvelling at the feeling of Potter’s beard against his palm. “Please?” Hesitantly, Potter lifted his head. The look on his face broke Draco’s heart. “You know that’s nonsense, right?” he whispered, looking squarely into Potter’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous.”

“No, I’m n—”

“How can you be so unaware of the effect you have on people?” He let out a shuddering breath. “On me.”

He felt Potter shiver beneath his touch. He seemed surprised but also sceptical. What could Draco say to make him feel better? He had absolutely no clue. But maybe words weren’t the right thing to go by here.

“Potter,” he said softly, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Take off your jumper.”

“What?” Potter didn’t just look surprised, he looked panicked.

Draco leaned closer. “Do you trust me?”

Potter didn’t answer, his expression turning more painful. Draco let out a sigh before he pressed their foreheads together.

“Are you really that stupid?”

Potter scowled at him but said nothing.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Draco muttered.

“I’m not making you do any—” He fell silent when Draco pulled away, removed his hand from his cheek and got up. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, Draco started unbuttoning his shirt.

“What— What are you doing?”

“Listen carefully, Potter, because I’m only going to say this once.” He peeled the shirt off of himself and threw it on the floor. “You understand?”

Potter stared at him, wide-eyed. It took a few seconds before he slowly nodded. Draco took a deep breath. He had never felt more vulnerable in his life. Not only was he, quite literally, exposing himself to Potter, he was about to expose what he had so desperately been trying to hide. But he had a feeling it was now or never.

He sat down on the bed, facing Potter, but before he could say anything, Potter let out a dreadful gasp, his eyes fixed on Draco’s chest.

“Draco, this— this— Fuck!” He threw back the duvet and jumped out of bed as though he had just been bitten by an Acromantula. One hand was clamped over his mouth, his eyes full of horror. “I did this to you,” he whispered.

Shit! Draco hadn’t really thought this through, had he? Of course Potter would blame himself for this.

“Potter. Potter!”

He didn’t seem to be listening. His mind seemed to be somewhere else. Draco got up, taking a step closer to him.

“Potter!”

He was shaking his head furiously. He looked like he was about to be sick. Draco gritted his teeth. Potter would be the death of him. Seriously, how much more of himself was Draco supposed to expose? Ugh!

“Harry,” Draco said quietly. Potter stilled. His eyes finally focused on Draco. “Come here.” He stretched out his hand. “Please.”

It took an agonisingly long time until Potter put his trembling hand in Draco’s. He let himself be tugged back to the bed where they both sat down.

“I’m not trying to torture you,” Draco said softly, squeezing Potter’s hand. “I just want you to realise— Hey.” He put a finger under Potter’s chin, unwilling to let him avoid his gaze. “Do you know how ironic this is? I’m the one with all the flaws.” His face twisted in disgust at his own words. “I’m the one… who doesn’t deserve you.”

Potter made a choking sound.

“Yes, you gave me those scars,” Draco continued, his chest tightening as Potter let out a muffled whimper, “but you did it because of this.” He held out his left arm where the Dark Mark was still visible. It had faded after the Dark Lord’s death, but there was no way of hiding it. “This is a constant reminder of the mistakes I made. I have to look at this every day. But I can’t change the past. It took me a long time to understand that. And it took me even longer to realise I don’t have to. Building a new life, when all you have as a foundation are ruins, isn’t easy. But it’s not impossible.”

This time, it was Draco who couldn’t hold Potter’s gaze. He stared at their joined hands in his lap, feeling like a fool.

“You sound like a cheesy motivational quote,” Potter muttered, and Draco could almost hear a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m sorry, Draco,” he said after a moment, sounding much gloomier. “I’m sorry for… what I did to you.”

“I know you are. I’m sorry, too.”

“Um…” Potter hesitated, but Draco noticed his hand was creeping over to his. “Can I— Can I touch them?”

Draco felt an instant rush of panic shoot through him. No one had touched his scars before. But, given what they meant to him, there was probably no better person but Potter to be the first. It was almost as though they had come full circle.

Keeping his face as stoic as possible, he nodded.

Potter was hesitant as he lifted his hand. With a touch so feathery it almost tickled, he traced the longest scar on Draco’s chest.

“I thought Snape made sure it didn’t scar,” he muttered quietly.

“I guess it would have been worse if he hadn’t—” He broke off when Potter snatched away his hand and looked at him in horror. “Sorry. But I guess there’s no sugarcoating it. But hey, at least you didn’t get my face. You nearly did, though.” Draco turned his head and pushed his hair out of the way. He knew you could only see it if you looked closely. That scar had faded the most and it was tiny. But it was there, on his right cheek, right next to his ear.

Draco shivered inadvertently when Potter’s finger brushed his skin.

“You’re not going to beat yourself up about this again, are you?” he muttered, suppressing the urge to lean into Potter’s touch.

“It’s hard not to,” Potter retorted.

“Like I said, Potter, these scars are part of the past. But they’re also part of who I am today. They’re a good reminder, you know.”

He hoped Potter was able to hear the finality in his voice. As much as he wanted to help him, he didn’t want to talk about this anymore. He had already told Potter he didn’t deserve him. What else was there to say?

He drew his lower lip between his teeth when Potter shifted closer. For a breathtaking moment, he thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, Potter ran his fingers through Draco’s hair and gave him a piercing look.

“I do think you’re beautiful, but…” He twisted a strand of hair around his finger. “I like you because you’re you.”

It’s funny, isn’t it, how you can go through life, manage to let each day pass and come to terms with the fact that no one will ever feel a certain way about you, accept that your deepest desire is out of reach, not yours to have. So what do you do when that suddenly changes?

Honestly? Draco had no fucking clue. The only thing he knew was, his heart had never felt this full; never had he been almost moved to tears by the simplicity of spoken words.

Potter’s fingers were still twisted in his hair, his thumb stroking his forehead. Fearing he’d be too choked up if he waited any longer, Draco leaned forward and captured Potter’s lips with his.

It was strange, how different kissing Potter felt in that moment; as though all these different kinds of emotions rushing through him had suddenly found a way out of his body. They were almost tangible on his skin. And on his lips, he could almost taste the sweetness of Potter’s words. It was overwhelming. Almost too overwhelming.

He slowly pulled back, drinking in Potter’s soft expression and the warmth in his eyes.

“Kind of paradoxical, isn’t it,” Draco said, knowing he was about to ruin the moment, “that you can tell me something like that and yet not believe me when I tell you the same.”

“Do you?” Potter immediately asked. “Feel the same?”

And there it was. The question of all questions. The moment Draco had been trying to avoid for Merlin knows how long. The revelation he finally felt ready for. Kind of. Not really. He was a queasy mess to be honest. But, he supposed, since they were already being disgustingly sentimental and all…

“Do you remember the third task of the Triwizard Tournament in fourth year?” he asked, watching as Potter’s face turned from anxious to confused.

“Um… yes?”

“When I saw you walk into that maze, I had a strange feeling. I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, it was just… my gut telling me something, I guess,” Draco murmured. “And then you came back… with Diggory’s body.” He heard Potter inhale sharply. “It made me think… _You_ could have died that day.” He paused, trying to gather up the courage to say the next words without sounding like he was being chased by a Dementor. “That… was the first time I realised I had feelings for you.”

Potter’s mouth fell open and he looked like he was going to say something, which Draco chose to ignore.

“And then you started dating Chang,” he scoffed. “I wanted to snap your neck when I found out you were dating her. It was—” He bit his lip. Could he really do this? He was already feeling overwhelmed. He searched Potter’s face for any indication he should stop talking. His dark skin looked ashen and he was obviously shocked. If anything, it encouraged Draco to keep going. “And when— when you started dating Weasley—” He gulped. He had never intended to tell Potter any of this. Maybe it was pointless. But maybe, it was exactly what Potter needed to hear. “When you started dating Weasley, I hated you so much. I couldn’t concentrate on— on what I was supposed to do. But it also made me reckless, because— because I knew I’d never get what I wanted. It didn’t matter anyway. The Dark Lord was about to kill me, so what was the point in hoping?” He let out a humourless laugh and shook his head. “And then, you defeated him.” He looked Potter straight in the eye without blinking. “You defeated him, giving everyone a second chance for happiness. Except me.” He knew he wasn’t being fair, but this was how he had felt back then. “I tried to avoid you as much as possible, but you’re so bloody stubborn and kept trying to talk to me. I just couldn’t handle it.”

Potter looked as though Draco had just punched him. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Draco raised his hand.

“I swear to Merlin, Potter, if you interrupt me now—” He took another deep breath. “I don’t think I can say what I—” He quickly looked sideways, every muscle in his body tense. For once, Potter seemed to be doing as he was told, staying silent. Drumming his fingers against his thigh, Draco braced himself for the most difficult part yet. “I didn’t think it was possible, that you could like me like that. Ever. Astoria and I, we’ve been friends for years. And even though we aren’t involved romantically, we decided getting married was the best option we had. Her family was pressuring her to find a husband and settle down, and even though my mother did no such thing, it was very much implied she was waiting for an heir. Everything was going as it was supposed to… until you stumbled into my life again.” He rubbed his fingertips against his forehead as if that would help him think. “It was different than it had been in school. Everything was suddenly… intensified. I never told Astoria how I felt about you, but, funnily enough, she already knew when I told her I wanted to call off the engagement. I guess it was more obvious than I thought.”

The following silence was pregnant with meaning. Did Potter already know where he was going with this? Was he still trying to figure it out?

“Um, can I say something?” Potter asked quietly. Without looking at him, Draco nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

Draco arched an incredulous eyebrow. “For very obvious reasons, Potter. Like I said, I never thought you would like me like that, so what was the point?” It was almost physically painful to say these words out loud. His pride was begging him to stop. But if his pride was the price he had to pay to get Potter to finally see what a dickhead he was being, then so it shall be. “I finally realised how my choice would affect all the lives of the people involved, how unfair it would be. I would rob Astoria of the chance to find true happiness, with someone who truly wanted to be with her. There was a time when I thought we might come to love each other, but… that would have never happened. Because—” He balled his hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking. Damn it! It felt like he was holding his heart in his hands, offering it to Potter, hoping he wouldn’t crush it.

“Because?” Potter echoed.

Draco closed his eyes, his heart hammering so violently in his chest, he thought it was going to burst. “Because— Because I’m already in love with someone else.”

A part of Draco was dying to see the reaction on Potter’s face. But he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He jumped when he heard Potter make a choking sound and felt him squeeze his hand.

“You— You’re in love with me?” His voice sounded squeaky.

“Potter, I’m not going to say it again.”

“But— I… Really?”

“Potter!”

Finally, Draco opened his eyes. He found Potter staring at him in a very unbecoming way.

“You’re in love with me,” Potter breathed.

Against his better judgement, Draco nodded.

“But… how?”

“What do you mean ‘how?” Draco snorted. “You made it impossible for me not to—” He cut himself off before he would blab something Potter could tease him with.

“Really?” Potter still sounded like he couldn’t believe a word Draco was saying.

“Yes, really,” Draco grumbled. “Even though you’re a prat. A prat who’s far too attractive for his own good.”

Potter’s mouth snapped shut, his brows furrowing. Draco wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him.

“You do realise the way you looked in school wasn’t healthy, right? Now, you finally look like a person, not like a skeleton.”

“You’re one to talk,” Potter murmured.

“I’m just built that way. You on the other hand…” He held Potter’s gaze as he slowly leaned closer. “You’re so handsome and you don’t even realise—” He broke off when Potter looked away. He reached up, cupped his cheek and turned his head back around to him.

“You haven’t seen everything, yet,” Potter muttered in a strained tone.

Before Draco could fire back a retort, Potter pulled back. For a second, Draco thought he would leave. Then again, this was his flat. So was he going to ask Draco to leave?

When he realised what Potter was actually doing, he froze. He watched closely as Potter got up and slowly grabbed the hem of his jumper. He knew this was a big moment. This was what Potter had been trying to avoid the last time. If he took off his jumper now, it would mean… it would mean…

Draco stopped breathing when Potter pulled the jumper over his head and let it fall to the floor. He looked so anxious, all Draco wanted to do was pull him into a hug. But he couldn’t stop staring at him; at his chest where black hair curled against his dark skin, at his nipples which sent heat through his body, at his stomach that looked so soft, Draco yearned to touch it.

Several moments passed until Potter crossed his arms in front of him, covering his stomach. Draco’s eyes darted up to his face. He had never seen Potter look so nervous. His eyes widened when Draco smiled at him and stroked his arm.

“You don’t have to hide anything,” Draco murmured. He waited until Potter slowly let his arms fall back to his sides. “And you thought this would scare me off?” Draco said, suppressing the urge to raise an eyebrow.

Potter frowned. “This,” he put a hand on his stomach, “used to be flat.”

“So since your stomach isn’t flat, I can’t be in love with you? Really? You really think I’d like you more if you had abs?”

“I thought— I thought you might not— not want to—”

“Oh Potter, believe me, I do want to. Very much.”

Before Potter could say anything to that, Draco got down on his knees in front of him.

“Can I?” he asked, his hand hovering over Potter’s stomach. For a moment, he thought Potter was going to say no. Anguish was written all over his face. He still seemed unsure when he gave Draco a slight nod.

Careful not to make any hasty movements, Draco lowered his hand until it made contact with Potter’s skin. It felt so different from his own, a little rougher, and his hand looked even paler in contrast to Potter’s dark skin tone.

He traced the shape of Potter’s belly with his fingers, feeling him stiffen when he reached the part where his stomach stuck out the most over his waistband.

“Stop. Please stop,” Potter croaked.

“Potter, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Hoping he wasn’t overstepping any boundaries, he placed several kisses on his belly before he wrapped his arms around Potter’s midriff and nestled his cheek against his skin. Potter stood perfectly still; Draco wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing.

“You— You’re really okay with this?” he murmured.

Draco lifted his head, taking in Potter’s dumbstruck expression. He hoisted himself up while another smile crept onto his lips.

“You’re such an idiot.” He took Potter’s face into his hands and waited until his eyes were focused on his. “This,” he softly brushed his fingers across Potter’s face, “isn’t why I’m in love with you. It’s a nice bonus, though. A very nice one.” He tapped his index finger against Potter’s temple. “ _This_ is why I’m in love with you.” He let his hand wander down Potter’s neck before he pressed his palm against his chest. “And this.” If Draco hadn’t been so nervous himself, he would have relished the fact Potter was speechless yet again. “And all this,” he trailed his fingers down to Potter’s hips, which he grabbed with both hands to pull him flush against him, “is what makes me want you. Very, very much.” Potter made a choking sound when Draco gave his bum a hearty squeeze.

It felt strange, now that all cards were on the table. It was equally reassuring as it was terrifying.

“How come you’re suddenly so good with words?” Potter said, and Draco noticed his face was a bit more relaxed.

“I’ve always been good with words.”

“But, usually, you’re not that outspoken. And last time, you weren’t as… bold.”

Draco’s hands on Potter’s bum twitched. Yeah, that had kind of been a spur of the moment thing.

“I, err…” Even though they had both been shirtless for a while now, it was only then Draco realised _they were both shirtless._

Potter gave him a hesitant smile. “Maybe we can be nervous together?” He wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and started stroking his shoulder blade with his thumb. Draco shivered inadvertently.

“We all come with baggage, I guess,” he murmured. As he was gazing into Potter’s eyes, he remembered what Luna had said right before he had taken off. “We’ll have to be patient with each other.”

“I can do that,” Potter whispered, leaning in. He captured Draco’s bottom lip and let his tongue brush against it. This, Draco mused, was definitely something he’d never grow tired of. He wondered if his heart would ever cease to jump frantically when Potter kissed him. Probably not. And definitely not right now. On the contrary, his heart rate increased dramatically when he parted his lips and felt Potter’s tongue push against his. Sweet Merlin!

The kiss turned from tender to heated within seconds. Draco bit back a moan when Potter’s hips started grinding against his. His cock was already half hard and if Potter kept moving like that, Draco was sure he’d be coming in his pants in just a few minutes.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back when Potter moved his head lower to kiss his neck. He let one hand wander down Draco’s spine until he reached his arse. Draco’s heart gave a violent jerk and they both jumped when something crashed loudly behind them.

“Hey, I liked that lamp,” Potter said.

Draco rolled his eyes, even though he wanted to curl up and die. A hand on his arse and he was blowing up lamps? What the fuck would happen if they were both naked?

As if Potter had just read his mind, he asked, “If I take off your trousers, will you destroy my whole bedroom?”

“Um…” Draco wasn’t sure how to answer that. For one, he had no idea what would happen. And, more importantly, the thought of Potter taking off his trousers had his mind spinning like mad. “I guess you’ll have to try and see,” he croaked.

Without breaking eye contact, Potter moved his hands down to his waistband. It took him no time to unbutton his trousers. Draco gulped when Potter paused.

“Yours too,” Draco whispered. Something that looked a lot like anxiety flashed across Potter’s face. “Hey, we’re nervous together, remember?” Draco said quietly, cupping Potter’s cheek. “I’m a fucking virgin for crying out loud.”

The corner of Potter’s mouth twitched and he swiftly pulled down his trousers, along with his socks. Draco did the same, grinning as he caught sight of Potter’s pants.

“Lions? Really? How very Gryffindor of you.”

“I’ll show you what else is very Gryffindor,” Potter growled teasingly and lunged at Draco. They both landed on the bed, Potter on top of him. He trapped Draco’s hips with his legs, pinning his hands over his head.

“You’re so beautiful,” Potter said.

Draco struggled to free one of his hands and ran it across Potter’s cheek. “So are you,” he whispered. Before Potter could say anything else, he pulled him back into a scorching kiss.

The sensation of Potter’s skin rubbing against his, _Potter’s cock_ rubbing against his, was absolute bliss. He arched his back when Potter started playing with one of his nipples.

“Hmmm, they’re very sensitive it seems,” Potter murmured. Draco simply moaned in agreement. “I wonder what will happen if I do this.” Before Draco could even begin to ask himself what Potter was going to do, he felt his hot breath on his chest, followed by his mouth.

“Oh, fuck!”

Potter hummed and started to draw circles around his nipple with his tongue. No matter how often Draco had touched himself, it had never felt anything like this. When Potter moved to the other side, to continue his blissful torture, Draco couldn’t help but gasp.

“You’re so receptive. I like that,” Potter breathed. His hands ran down the length of Draco’s arms as he closed his mouth around his nipple and started to suck.

Draco’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He started squirming and panting when Potter moved down to his ribcage, his stomach, his hip… When he brushed his lips along the line of his waistband, Draco thought he was going to pass out.

“We don’t have to do anything today,” Potter murmured. “We can take it slow.”

“Bloody tease,” Draco grumbled teasingly as he propped himself up on his elbows. He held Potter’s questioning gaze, hoping he could see the burning desire Draco felt in his chest.

“Are you sure?” Potter breathed, his fingers digging into Draco’s sides.

“I just told you… how I feel and how long I’ve been… feeling it.” So much for being good with words.

Potter’s expression didn’t change. When he laid his head on Draco’s stomach, Draco thought he didn’t believe him, didn’t want to continue. But then, he felt a warm hand on his thigh, which slowly crept upwards.

“Ah!” Draco almost lept off the bed when Potter cradled his balls through his pants and started massaging them. As if that wasn’t enough, he slowly closed his mouth around Draco’s cock. Fuck! Potter knew what he was doing! Somehow, it was such a turn on to feel the heat of his mouth without _really_ feeling it; he could only imagine what it would be like if Potter pulled down his pants and really went for it.

He felt the push of Potter’s tongue against his tip which made his hips jerk uncontrollably. He turned his head, pressing his cheek into the mattress, only to be bombarded with Potter’s delicious scent that clung to his sheets.

“Oh, Merlin,” he groaned; as if in response, Potter gave his balls a light squeeze, which had him trembling from head to toe. It only intensified when he felt Potter shift. He lifted his head and was met with the sight of Potter, lying on his front between Draco’s legs. His pulse immediately went into a frenzy.

He watched as Potter curled a finger around his waistband and slowly pulled it down. Instinctively, Draco wanted to push up his hips, to help Potter get them off, but instead, his head fell back onto the mattress when Potter started kissing and sucking at his groin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Draco whispered under his breath. It only seemed to encourage Potter to suck harder. Just when Draco thought he wouldn’t be able to take any more of it, Potter’s tongue vanished. Next thing he knew, he felt a cold tickle on the spot where Potter had probably left a mark. “Oh shit,” he groaned as Potter alternated between blowing and kissing his skin. He was filled with so much want, he thought he was going to lose consciousness from it.

“Your skin is so soft,” Potter murmured, and Draco felt his breath on his cock. Oh Merlin, please, just—

“Nnngh!” Draco was sure something in him was exploding when he felt Potter’s hot tongue lick its way up his cock. Desperately, he grasped at the sheets as Potter swirled his tongue around his tip. He barely noticed Potter murmuring something before he realised his pants were gone; Potter had vanished them. Mere seconds later, his hand was wrapped around the base of Draco’s cock as he slowly sucked the head into his mouth. “AH!”

Potter took him in deep, until his whole cock was surrounded by heat.

“Potter! Potter,” Draco panted desperately as Potter started bobbing his head. Instinctively, Draco reached down and buried his hands into the disheveled mess of Potter’s hair. Potter hummed in approval. His movements were getting quicker, the press of his tongue firmer. Draco had no idea what the protocol was for informing your partner you were close. Very close. “Potter, wait,” he blurted, propping himself up.

Potter slowly released his cock with a pop and gave him a lazy grin. “Already?”

Draco was too far gone to to give him a snappy retort. He was too busy catching his breath.

“Hey, um…” Potter began, brushing his fingers through the golden hairs around the base of Draco’s cock. “I know you wanted me to top, err, you know, last time, but…”

“But?”

“I’m kind of in the mood for…”

“For?” Draco’s pulse quickened yet again.

“Your cock.”

Draco stared at him, his mouth hanging open. “Yeah, that’s— I mean, sure, if, um, if that’s… what you want.” Sweet Merlin, if he wasn’t careful, he would come right now, all over Potter’s face. Oh no, no, no, wrong image! WRONG IMAGE!

“Is it what _you_ want?” Potter asked hesitantly.

Instead of answering, Draco grabbed his face and gently pulled him up into a kiss. He made a gurgling sound when Potter moaned into his mouth and pressed their hips together. Fuck, if Potter kept moving like that, the fun really would be over before it had even started!

“Is that a yes?” Potter breathed against his lips.

Draco let out a groan. “I don’t care about anything else,” he whispered. “As long as it’s you and me.”

Potter pulled back, astonishment written all over his face. Fuck. That hadn’t been what Draco had wanted to say. At least not in such a sentimental way. As always, it was completely Potter’s fault. How was Draco’s brain supposed to work properly, given these circumstances?

His heart skipped a beat when Potter’s face slowly lit up and he bent down for another kiss, grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

Moving his hands down, Draco gripped Potter’s hips and pushed them up. He awkwardly tried to push down his pants and was only successful when Potter helped. Merlin, now they were both naked. Without thinking twice about it, Draco rolled them over, until Potter was on his back. He swiftly sat back on his heels to appreciate the view in front of him. Sweet Salazar, Potter was captivating. Draco trailed a finger down his chest, over his stomach, until he reached his cock. Draco hadn’t even touched him yet but he was already hard.

“Okay, hold on,” Potter said, “I’m going to show you how you stretch someone properly.”

Potter slowly spread his legs, leaving Draco completely breathless. Mesmerised, he watched as Potter started to circle his entrance with his fingers, muttering a spell under his breath.

“Wait,” Draco blurted. Potter blinked and gave him an expectant look. “I, um… I was just wondering… Is this the only way to stretch someone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t there— Aren’t there other ways, too?”

Potter raised an eyebrow. “There are. Why do I get the feeling you already have something in mind?”

“Because I do,” Draco said, his voice quivering. “I— I—” He shifted closer. “I want to, err—” He swallowed around the massive lump in his throat. Merlin, this would probably turn out to be a monumental mistake. But the thought alone had his cock throbbing. “I— I want to lick you. There.” He could practically feel the heat, radiating off his crimson cheeks.

“You—” Potter’s eyes were suddenly impossibly wide.

“I’ve had dreams about this,” Draco blurted before he could stop himself. “Merlin, please, Potter, let me do it.”

“You had dreams about rimming me?”

Ah, so that was what it was called.

“I had dreams about you doing it to me. And it felt bloody amazing. That’s how I want to make you feel.”

Draco bit his lip while Potter just kept gawking at him. In fact, he looked like a Dementor had just sucked out his soul. Great, he thought, I broke Harry Potter.

“Um… If you don’t like that—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Potter burst out. “Of course I—” He made an incoherent sound that made Draco’s heart skip a beat. “But, um, Draco, that’s— Are you sure?”

“Yes?”

“Really?”

“No?”

“Look, you don’t have to try to impress me, I—”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Draco said, suddenly feeling like a stubborn child. “I just— I’m not sure… how…”

“How it works?”

In spite of his embarrassment, Draco nodded.

“Well, I’d be happy to be your guinea pig.”

“My what?”

Potter laughed, shaking his head. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Something scorching coursed through Draco as these words echoed in his mind. _You can do whatever you want to me._ Sweet Mother of Merlin!

“Okay, um…” Draco hated that he was so nervous. He hated that Potter was more experienced than him. But the longer he held Potter’s gaze, the more relaxed he felt. “So… in my dream, you were behind me and, err… I was… bent over.”

Potter made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. It encouraged Draco to keep going.

“I want to see your face, though. Can we do it while you’re on your back?”

Without answering, Potter grabbed one of the bigger pillows and shoved it under the small of his back.

“Ah,” Draco said. Well, there was his answer. “But… is that comfortable for you?”

“Do I look uncomfortable?” Potter retorted with a lopsided smile.

“You look…” Draco let out a shuddering breath and slowly leaned forward, placing a hand on his thigh. Potter’s legs were still spread, his cock and his arse on full display. Honestly, it was the hottest thing Draco had ever laid eyes on. He felt Potter tremble when he started stroking his thigh and his stomach immediately flipped. He was making Potter tremble. Fuck. Yes, he wanted him to tremble; he wanted him to pant and moan and writhe beneath him.

Lowering his head, he started peppering Potter’s inner thigh with kisses, gently brushing his fingers against the inside of his knee. He noticed with great satisfaction that Potter’s breathing was becoming more shallow the nearer he moved to his cock. When he reached his groin, he decided to be a bit more experimental.

“Merlin,” Potter exclaimed as Draco pressed the flat of his tongue against it and licked his way upwards. His cheek brushed against Potter’s cock and the little black hairs nestled around it. He tried to think of all the things Potter had teased him with, a smirk forming on his face. He pursed his lips and gently blew on the tip of Potter’s cock. “Ah!” Potter’s hips jerked, and Draco took the opportunity of Potter being distracted to settle himself properly between his legs. He felt his pulse hammering against his collarbone as he stared at Potter’s arse. What if he did something wrong? What if Potter didn’t like it? He desperately tried to think what he would enjoy if the roles were reversed. Tentatively, he leaned forward and started mouthing at Potter’s balls. “Oh, shit!”

Okay, apparently that hadn’t been too bad. He gently sucked on one of them, until Potter was squirming so much, Draco slung his arm around his thigh to keep him in place.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Potter panted. Draco grinned in satisfaction. Still, he couldn’t shake the nervousness crashing down on him as he kissed Potter’s cheeks, slowly but surely moving towards his cleft. “Wait,” Potter suddenly breathed. Draco stiffened. He lifted his head and searched Potter’s face; he was flushed and murmuring something under his breath. “Cleansing and protection charms,” he said after a moment. Oh, thank Merlin! So Draco hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet.

He awkwardly resumed kissing Potter’s cheeks and hesitantly brought a finger to his cleft. Slowly, he dragged his fingertip along the length and shivered when Potter let out a deep moan. He wanted to hear it again. Gripped by determination, he slowly leaned forward and replaced his finger with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Potter almost yelled. Draco did it again, pressing the flat of his tongue against Potter’s rim. But what now? Draco thought hard, until he decided to move his tongue like he did when he was eating ice cream. That couldn’t be too wrong, right? “Oh fuck, Draco!”

Draco’s cock twitched at hearing his name in such a breathy way. It made him bolder, prompted him to twist his tongue this way and that before he closed his mouth around the puckered skin and started to suck.

“AH! Draco,” Potter exclaimed.

Draco marveled at the sensation of Potter’s rim fluttering beneath his tongue. He used the tip to draw circles around it, eliciting all kinds of filthy and delicious sounds from Potter, which, in return, had his cock throbbing and leaking.

“Merlin, Draco, please,” Potter groaned, “use your tongue or you fingers, I don’t care, but please—”

Wait… what?

“You—” Draco pulled back, suddenly realising how lightheaded he was. Salazar, he should have come up for air sooner. “You— You want me to push my tongue inside you?”

“Or your fingers, I don’t care, I just need— Ah!”

Draco dove back in, his cock responding to every flutter of Potter’s rim. This was more rewarding than he had thought. He resumed drawing circles with his tongue, until Potter let out such a desperate moan, Draco thought he was going to implode. But, fuck, he had no idea what he was doing. Heart pounding in his chest, he tentatively tried to push the tip of his tongue against Potter’s entrance.

“Fuck, yes,” Potter groaned, and Draco immediately felt his rim loosen up. He wasted no time to push his tongue further in, marvelling at the sounds Potter made. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Never in a million years would Draco have thought he would basically fuck Harry Potter with his mouth. Fuck, this was exciting!

“Draco, do it now, fuck me!”

Sweet Mother of Merlin!

“Draco!”

Draco pulled back, trying to focus his blurry eyes on Potter’s face. Merlin, the way he was looking at him sent a violent wave of desire through him.

“Come here,” Potter said huskily, motioning for him to come closer. Draco obliged, sliding forward on his knees until their thighs were touching. “Hold out your hand.” Draco did and flinched when he suddenly felt something cold and wet in his hands. “Lube,” Potter said.

Oh Merlin, this was it, wasn’t it?

“Come on, Draco, I want your cock inside me. Now!”

Draco let out a shuddering breath before he wrapped his hand around his cock and coated it with lube.

“Ah.” Potter let out another moan as he spread his legs wider. This was so much better than Draco had imagined. Slowly, he bent down his cock and rubbed the tip against Potter’s entrance. “Merlin, yes! Yes!”

“Oh fuck!” Draco squeezed his eyes shut as he slowly pushed his cock inside. He paused halfway through, his head swimming. “Are you okay?” he asked, shooting Potter a worried look.

“I will be when I can feel your balls against my arse.”

Without warning, Potter grabbed both his forearms and pulled him down into a kiss, consequently pulling Draco’s cock deeper inside.

“Yes,” he hissed, his hands flying down to Draco’s arse to push him deeper still.

“Oh!” Draco tried to hold still. This was bloody embarrassing. If he wasn’t careful, he would come any second.

“Do you need a moment?” Potter murmured against his lips. His tone was teasing. Draco scowled at him. “That’s okay,” Potter said, brushing their lips together. “Think about… I don’t know… Parkinson. Naked.”

Draco started coughing, which definitely wasn’t helping; he clenched every muscle in his body to keep himself from moving.

“My bad,” Potter laughed. Oh, Merlin! He was practically shaking with laughter. Shit!

“Potter, please stop laughing,” Draco moaned, letting his forehead drop down to Potter’s.

“Hmmm, I like your voice like this. Low and husky,” Potter breathed. Draco bit back another moan, huffing when Potter sniggered.

“I hate you,” he grumbled.

“Sure you do,” Potter retorted. He gave Draco’s arse another squeeze, making him flinch. “It’s okay, you know. I didn’t last long my first time, either.”

Draco searched his eyes, but all he found there was warmth and tenderness. Merlin, Potter would definitely be the death of him.

Still nervous, but a little more reassured, he slowly started moving.

“Oh, yes,” Potter sighed, arching his back. Draco buried his face in the crook of his neck, his cock pulsing feverishly. “Ah, Draco! AH! Harder, do it harder!” Draco shivered at these words. He propped himself up on his elbows and lifted his hips, pulling almost all the way out. When he thrust back in, stars exploded in front of his eyes. This — was — just — oh! — bloody — fan — tastic! He tried to adapt to the rhythm Potter was suggesting by squeezing his arse. “Merlin, yes, yes.”

“Are you close?” Draco blurted.

“Yes,” Potter hissed in response.

“Can you hold off?”

“What?”

“I want to know what it’s like.” He pushed in deep, biting back a groan. “I want to know how it feels to have you inside me.”

“Now?” Potter spluttered.

“Yes,” Draco groaned.

It only took three more thrusts before every muscle in his body clenched.

“Oh fuck. We have to do it quickly, otherwise—”

It took everything in him not to thrust into Potter again. Slowly, he pulled out his cock and sat back on his heels.

“So… do I lie on my back now?” he asked, stupidly.

“If you want to,” Potter said, panting furiously. “I think it would be easier for you, though, if you… if you were on your hands and knees.”

“No,” Draco said promptly. “I want to see you.” It was the second time he’d said this, and, surprisingly, he didn’t feel as embarrassed about it as he thought he would have.

Potter bit his lip, his eyes darting down to his stomach. Was he seriously still worried about that? Was there a way for Draco to take his mind off of it? Strangely enough, seeing Potter so insecure only made Draco feel bolder.

“Can we stay like this?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

Without responding, Draco crawled up to him and straddled his hips.

“What?” Potter spluttered. “You want to—” He broke off when Draco purposefully rubbed his arse against his hard cock. “Merlin, Draco! You can’t ride me when this is your first time bottoming.”

“Why not?” Draco asked, curling his fingers around Potter’s wrist.

“Because— Because—”

Draco smirked as he guided Potter’s hand to his backside and leaned down to breathe against his lips. “Finger me, and then we’ll see what I can or can’t do.”

Potter made a sound that almost sounded like a sob.

“Come on, finger me,” he whispered into his ear. He heard Potter mumble the spell he had used to conjure up the lube in Draco’s hand, and immediately shivered in anticipation. “Oh!”

Potter’s fingers were tentative as they rubbed him. He heard Potter mumble something else before he suddenly felt a rush of magic shoot through him. Ah, right, cleansing and protection. He gasped and closed his eyes when Potter applied more pressure, sending a powerful tingle up his spine as he circled Draco’s rim.

“How does it feel?” Potter whispered, his voice raspy.

“It feels… good,” Draco breathed, furrowing his brows. “Oh!” He plunged forward, but caught himself on his elbows, when Potter finally pushed a finger inside him.

“How does it feel now?” Potter asked.

“It feels…” Draco shivered. “It feels strange.”

“Good strange?”

“I don’t know.”

Potter seemed to be waiting for Draco to adjust, to which he only snorted.

“What?” Potter said, sounding a little nervous.

“Just… move your finger or something,” Draco said.

“Okay, but… tell me if it hurts.”

It didn’t, but he was almost sure it would at some point. He willed himself to relax, but he could only concentrate on the unfamiliar sensation of Potter’s slick finger. He startled when warm lips were suddenly pressed against his collarbone. Nice diversion, Potter, he thought with a grin. The way Potter was gasping and moaning against his skin sent heat through him, and before he knew it, he found himself moving in the rhythm of Potter’s finger.

“Oh, it feels good,” he breathed.

“Can I try adding another? I think you’re ready.”

Draco nodded, inhaling sharply when Potter softly bit down on his shoulder. “Ah!”

“Tell me when it gets too much,” Potter murmured.

Draco scrunched up his eyes, trying to block out the unpleasantness. He almost told Potter to stop when he started moving his fingers, but gasped instead when his whole body jerked and started to tingle.

“Oh! Oh!”

“Fuck, Draco, you’re doing so good.”

Draco practically lunged at Potter, devouring him as though he was the air Draco needed to breathe.

“I think I’m ready,” he panted, moving his hips suggestively.

“Are you sure?” Potter moaned. “You may think— Ah!”

“I don’t care,” Draco growled. He waited until Potter slowly removed his fingers and moved to adjust himself.

“Merlin, Draco, wait,” Potter laughed. He gently pushed him out of the way to coat his cock with more lube. “Okay, whenever you’re ready,” he grinned. Draco leaned down to kiss him again, until they were both short of breath. After making sure Potter wasn’t grinning anymore, he straightened himself and lifted his hips. He wrapped his hand around Potter’s cock, realising he had to bend in an awkward way to adjust himself. He did it as gracefully as he could, holding Potter’s cock in place as he slowly tried to lower himself on it.

“Oh Merlin,” Potter groaned, letting his head fall back.

Draco winced as he felt the tip of Potter’s cock stretch him and he felt a sharp burn zing through him. It was uncomfortable, but the tingling on his skin and the longing, coiling in his belly, were stronger. He lowered his hips as slowly as possible, finally letting go of Potter’s cock when he had fully engulfed him. The burning sensation was back, about ten times more intense as it had been before.

“Are you okay?” Potter asked, hesitantly stroking Draco’s thigh.

“Just… give me a moment,” he croaked. He tried to concentrate on the strange but satisfying feeling of Potter filling him up. He waited until he felt safe enough to move, wiggling his hips experimentally.

“Oh,” he and Potter both exclaimed. That… wasn’t too bad. Not bad at all, actually. He did it again, only this time, Potter moved his hips as well.

“Oh wow!”

The longer he had Potter inside him, the more comfortable he felt. He still wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do, but he tried lifting his hips and let himself plop down again.

“Shit,” Potter spluttered, grabbing Draco’s hips. “Oh Merlin, do that again.”

Draco did, his movements becoming more confident with every flip of his stomach and every thrust of Potter’s hips.

“Oh fuck! Oh yes, yes!”

Draco almost cried out when Potter’s hand curled around his cock; it only prompted Draco to move even more frantically.

“Fuck, you’re so tight! I think I’m— I’m—”

“Wait, not yet,” Draco moaned. Mere seconds later, his eyes rolled to the back of his head while his insides turned into molten lava. “Nngh!” His entire body trembled violently as he spilled all over Potter’s hand.

“Oh fuck, Draco! Draco! Draco!” Potter thrust into him one more time, pushing his hips upwards, before he writhed beneath him, his cock throbbing inside Draco. “Holy shit,” Potter groaned, tossing an arm over his eyes. His chest was heaving. Draco slowly lifted his hips to release Potter before he collapsed on top of him and buried his face in the crook of Potter’s neck. They stayed like this in silence for several minutes until Potter squirmed.

“What?” Draco asked, debating if it would be too much to kiss Potter’s neck. What the hell, he thought, and did it.

“Aren’t you going to move?” Potter sniggered.

“Hmmm… no. I don’t want to move right now.”

“Alright.” He sniggered again, wrapping his arms around him. Draco felt another rush of warmth course through him but, unlike before, it wasn’t as urgent. It was more like a pleasant buzz, vibrating through him.

“I—” Potter quietly cleared his throat. When he didn’t continue, Draco slowly lifted his head to look at him. “I can’t believe I just took your virginity.”

Draco paused. Was that… regret he was hearing in Potter’s voice? Ah, maybe not. He was smiling. But still, there was something about the way he’d said it. Wary and quiet.

“Don’t worry about it,” Draco said, a little more snappish than he had intended. “It’s not like we have to get married now, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Won’t your parents— I mean, err…”

Draco let out a sigh. “I’m not obliged to keep them updated about my virginal status, Potter. Besides, I really don’t care about what my father has to say anymore.”

“Oh.” Potter sounded surprised. “And your mother?”

“She’ll come around. Eventually.” Draco placed his head on Potter’s chest again, brushing his fingers against his shoulder. “I haven’t told her about the engagement yet.”

“Oh. You— You’re giving up a lot… to be here with me. Aren’t you?”

Draco pressed his lips together, feeling grateful Potter couldn’t see his face. “Yes and no,” he murmured. “A lot of the things my parents have taught me were… well, you know. I guess there’s always been this pressure, since I’m the only Malfoy heir, but… I just don’t see the point anymore. I guess mother will be disappointed, but…” He felt himself blush but suppressed the urge to hide his face behind his hands. “There are more important things.”

Potter’s hand in his hair froze, as did the rest of his body. Draco mentally slapped himself and wished he could take back those stupid words. He almost jumped when warm fingers found their way to his cheek, under his chin, gently turning his face upwards.

“You really mean that?” Potter asked. The longer Draco stared at him, the more he found himself unable to speak. So he just nodded. The smile that was plastered on Potter’s face moments after made Draco’s heart jump repeatedly, as though it was doing a happy dance. It only intensified when Potter took his face in both hands and pulled him into a soft and slow kiss. Draco couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

Even if his own sappiness made him cringe a little bit, it was true. Everything he had ever wanted was right here, holding him in his arms.

  
  
  
  
**Friday, 25 July 2003**

Draco looked at the clock when he heard the fireplace roar to life, a smug grin on his face. Potter was punctual. It made him feel giddy. He couldn’t help it.

“Great, you can stay right there,” he said as he entered the parlour.

“What?” Potter looked confused.

“There’s somewhere we need to go.”

“Where?” Potter asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Draco said, pushing Potter back into the fireplace.

“But how will I be able to go there if I don’t know—”

“I’ll do it for you,” Draco interrupted him. He waited until Potter had found his balance. He looked wary.

“We’re not going to see your mother, are we?” he asked.

Draco’s lips stretched into a smirk. “You can stand up to the Dark Lord but you’re afraid of my mother?”

Potter gave him a dark look that was more teasing than serious.

Draco chuckled. “Ready?” he asked. Slowly, Potter nodded. Draco took a pinch of floo powder, trying to calm Potter with a smile. It almost seemed to be working. Until…

“Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall’s office!” Surprise and apprehension flashed across Potter’s face before he vanished. Draco lost no time, stepping into the fireplace himself immediately, to follow Potter.

“Ah, there you are,” McGonagall said, a warm smile on her face.

“Headmistress,” Draco nodded in greeting. He took in Potter’s tense shoulders, the way he was wringing his hands.

“Please, sit down.” McGonagall gestured to the chairs in front of her desk.

Draco gave Potter a little nudge, since he seemed to be frozen in place.

“It’s good to see you both. Even though, I must admit, I’m a little surprised,” McGonagall said after Draco had pushed Potter down in his seat. Draco remained standing, one hand still on Potter’s shoulder.

“Now, what’s this about, Malfoy? You were very ominous about wanting to see me. It sounded urgent.”

Draco cleared his throat, hoping Potter wouldn’t hate him for what he was about to do.

“Yes, well, it’s not exactly my place to tell,” he said. His eyes flickered down to where Potter was pressing his palms against his thighs. “But I think this needs to be said.”

Potter looked up, over his shoulder, his expression full of anguish. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” he hissed.

“It will eat you alive if you don’t tell her now,” Draco whispered. He turned to McGonagall, who was watching them closely. “Potter has something to tell you, Headmistress. I’ll be waiting outside.” Before he could withdraw his hand from Potter’s shoulder, he felt trembling fingers curl around it.

“Please don’t go,” Potter said quietly.

Draco blinked. “Are— Are you sure?”

“I can’t do this without—” He broke off, obviously trying not to choke. Warmth, like he had never felt before, washed over Draco. Nobody had ever needed him. Not like this.

No longer hesitating, he sat down next to Potter, who didn’t let go of his hand.

The following silence felt very uncomfortable. Draco could practically feel Potter’s panic.

“Potter, for goodness sake, what’s the matter?” McGonagall asked, her voice sounding more serious than before.

“Um…”

Draco’s heart gave a painful squeeze when Potter tightened his grip on his hand.

“Headmistress, I—” His voice was shaking. “I— I let you down. I’m sorry.”

Draco peeked at McGonagall. One of her eyebrows was raised, making her look more stern. A classic McGonagall move.

“What in the name of Merlin are you on about, Potter?”

Potter exhaled loudly and Draco could hear all the dread he must have been feeling.

“I— I’m not—” He kept his eyes on their joined hands. “I— I quit the Auror program.” His face twisted, as though he was in pain. “I’m sorry.”

McGonagall’s face was unreadable. She studied Potter for a long moment, her eyes flickering to Draco every now and then.

“Oh. I see,” she finally said. “And how exactly does that correspond with you ‘letting me down’,” she said, putting emphasis on the last few words, to stress that those weren’t her words.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Potter said, gaping at her.

“Potter, I don’t like being depicted as slow or inane, so you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Even Draco shuddered at her words. Merlin, did she know how scary she could be sometimes? She probably did.

“You, um… In fifth year, err… when Umbridge said— You… you said you’d—”

“Potter, stop mumbling,” McGonagall interrupted him, though her tone wasn’t as snappish as her words. “Unless you’re here to tell me you murdered somebody, it can’t be as bad as you obviously think it is.”

Potter gulped. “But it is bad. You helped me get into that program and I— I—”

Draco felt Potter’s palm getting sweaty. When it was clear he wasn’t going to continue, McGonagall cleared her throat.

“May I speak freely, Potter?”

Slowly, Potter nodded while squeezing Draco’s hand so hard it was beginning to be painful.

“You were accepted into that program because of what you did to save the entirety of the Wizarding World. And also,” she raised her voice when Potter’s expression darkened, “because you are an exceptional wizard. All I did was encourage you to work harder while you were here at Hogwarts.”

“But Headmistress—”

“Potter, I didn’t storm into the Ministry and demand they make you an Auror. You did it by yourself.”

“Still, I— You must be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed?” McGonagall echoed. She pressed her lips into a tight line before she spoke again. “Let me ask you this, Potter. Why did you quit the Auror program?”

“I—  It’s not— It’s not what I thought it would be. I just—” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to become an Auror anymore.”

“There you have it, then,” McGonagall said, leaning back in her chair. Potter stared at her, incredulity written all over his face. McGonagall sighed. “Potter, you really think I’d be disappointed in you? After everything you did? It’s not your duty to become an Auror. It’s your duty to find something you want to do.”

Potter’s eyes widened. “But— But—”

“Potter!”

“Headmistress,” Draco said softly. “He’s—” He glanced at Potter, his heart twisting. “He’s been having a really hard time with this.”

Surprise flashed across McGonagall’s features. Her eyes rested on Potter as her expression slowly softened. “Potter, I think you misunderstood.” At that, Potter’s eyes snapped up to hers. “When I promised you to help you become an Auror, it was a promise to help you fulfill your dreams. Dreams change. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Even though the words weren’t directed at him, Draco felt warmth spread through his chest and a tingling sensation in his fingers. It took him a moment to realise that the tingling was actually coming from Potter. It was his magic.

“You defeated the greatest evil our world ever had to face. You carried that burden for almost 18 years. If anyone deserves to do whatever the hell they want, it’s you.”

Draco almost burst out laughing. He loved it when McGonagall swore.

“And I’ll promise you again, I’ll do everything in my power to help you do it.”

“Headmistress…”

Draco could feel the disbelief and gratitude radiating from Potter; he wondered if Potter even realised what his magic was doing right now, seeping into Draco. It felt so intimate.

“The question is, what do you want to do?” McGonagall asked.

“I have absolutely no idea,” Potter answered, sounding ashamed.

“Not even one?”

“Well, I guess it would be nice to be helping people.”

If Draco hadn’t been so distracted by the sensation of Potter’s magic, he would have rolled his eyes. Of course Potter wanted to dedicate his time to other people.

McGonagall nodded, resting her forearms on her desk and intertwining her fingers.

“It seems to me there’s a fairly easy and obvious solution for that,” she said.

“What?” Potter blinked. “There is?”

“Of course! Why don’t you just join Malfoy in—”

“Headmistress,” Draco interrupted her.

“What? Oh. You haven’t told him?”

“Told me what?” Potter said, looking confused.

Shit. Draco had told McGonagall their arrangement should be kept a secret under all circumstances. She was the last person he had expected to blab his secret.

“What is it?” Potter pressed.

“I’m sorry,” McGonagall told Draco, “I thought you two…” The rest of the unspoken sentence had Draco’s mind spinning. She obviously thought they were close enough for Draco to share his secret with Potter.

“Ugh, just tell him,” Draco sighed. He didn’t want to explain it himself.

“Very well,” McGonagall said. “About two years ago, Mr Malfoy approached me with an idea.”

“What kind of idea?”

“An infant school.”

“What?” Potter’s head whipped around to stare at Draco. “That school was your idea?”

“Ah, so you do know about it.”

“He took me there,” Potter murmured without taking his eyes off Draco. “But I didn’t know…”

“Well, he was rather persuasive,” McGonagall said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “How did you put it? ‘We don’t need another lunatic who wants to take over the world because he thinks he’s better than everyone.’”

Draco snorted. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“What convinced me most,” McGonagall continued, “was what you said about wizarding children being united before they come here. While dividing them into houses isn’t meant to be pitting them against each other, I can’t deny it’s a natural course, especially with Gryffindors and Slytherins.” Her mouth curved upwards. “But it’s nice to see that can turn out well.”

Draco coughed, feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

“Oh, before I forget,” McGonagall said, “Professor Flitwick wanted to give you some documents on spellwork. He was going to owl it to you, but since you’re here…” She got out of her seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Draco could tell Potter was dying to talk to him, but he waited until McGonagall had closed the door behind her.

“Are you fucking serious?” he blurted.

Draco tried to keep his face impassive. “What?”

“You don’t just volunteer at that school! It was your idea? It’s _your_ school?”

“Nobody knows about this Potter, about my involvement at least. Pansy and Blaise know, oh, and Luna, but I made them swear not to tell anybody.”

“Why?”

“Not everybody wants to be in the spotlight,” Draco shrugged.

“Yeah,” Potter said thoughtfully. “But still, what you’re doing—”

“Let’s not talk about that anymore,” Draco interjected. The way Potter was looking at him, almost awestruck, was making him uncomfortable.

“But—”

“Maybe what McGonagall said wasn’t the worst idea. We could need more help.”

Potter still looked flabbergasted.

“Who would have thought it would come to this?” Draco quipped, shaking his head. Potter seemed to regain his composure at Draco’s words.

“I can’t believe you dragged me here and—”

He stopped talking when Draco squeezed his hand.

“Don’t you feel better now?” he asked.

Potter shot him a dark look. “Maybe,” he grumbled. “Still, you could have at least warned me.”

“I thought it was better this way. You always did your best work under pressure,” Draco smirked. “I wouldn’t have done it if I thought you couldn’t handle it.”

Potter briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I guess it was a pretty nice thing to do,” he murmured. When he opened his eyes, they were so soft and warm, it felt like he was seeing right into Draco’s heart. “You knew what she was going to say, didn’t you?”

“Obviously I didn’t,” Draco snorted. “Otherwise, I would have been prepared to be exposed.”

“But you knew she wouldn’t be disappointed in me.”

“That I knew,” he murmured. “I hope this makes you realise that most of the pressure you’ve been feeling was put on you by yourself. It’s your life, your choices, nobody else’s.”

Potter looked like he was about to tear up. He was obviously trying very hard to hold it back. His mouth curved into a grateful smile before he leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

“Thank you,” he whispered, squeezing Draco’s hand again.

“Yeah, sure, I, um—”

“Ahem.”

They both startled, hastily jumping apart and finally letting go of each other’s hand.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself, Malfoy,” McGonagall said as she handed him a large envelope.

Draco felt himself blush, mentally cursing his existence.

“We’ll be on our way, then,” Draco said, keeping his eyes on the envelope.

“Thank you, Headmistress,” he heard Potter murmur. “I really appreciate it. Everything.”

“Don’t mention it, Potter. But… will you promise me something in return?”

Draco peered at Potter from under his lashes. He looked a bit nervous.

“Stop being your own worst enemy.”

Potter opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Before he could say something stupid, Draco reached for his wrist.

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Draco said, tugging Potter towards the fireplace.

“Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter,” McGonagall said, and they both turned around. She gave them a look Draco couldn’t read. Her eyes were sparkling and there was something about the curve of her mouth that looked completely out of place. Was it… amusement? “If I may speak freely one more time,” she said, raising her chin. “It’s about damn time, you stubborn, oblivious boys.”

  
  
  
  
  
**Thursday, 31 July 2003**

“You brought croissants.”

“I did.”

“And raspberries.”

Potter grinned at him. That loveable prat.

“I’m only eating if you are,” Draco said, motioning for him to sit down on his lap.

“I’m too heavy,” Potter said, shaking his head.

“Oh Merlin, not that again,” Draco muttered. He grabbed Potter’s hand and yanked him down. “There, nothing’s broken,” he said, wrapping his arms around him.

“You’re impossible,” Potter laughed. He still looked a little uncomfortable. Clearly, he was afraid to move. Letting out a sigh, Draco smacked his thigh.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” he said.

“What? We’re not eating in the dining room?” Potter asked in a teasing tone. “But what about the crumbs?”

Draco rolled his eyes as Potter jumped up and waited for Draco to lead the way.

“Where are we going?”

“My bedroom.”

“Ooooh,” Potter said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hold your horses, Potter.”

“Now you’re really making me curious.”

Draco stayed silent as they climbed the stairs, his heart drumming wildly in his chest. This was so not like him. But Potter had turned his whole world upside down; nothing was as it was before.

He paused when he wrapped his hand around the door handle.

“Come on, don’t keep me in suspense,” Potter said, impatiently.

Draco snorted, shaking his head. Before he could change his mind, he opened the door and pulled Potter along with him. As soon as they stepped into the room, he let go of Potter’s hand and shot him a nervous glance. Potter was gazing at the ceiling with parted lips.

“This…” He took another step forward. “Did you charm the ceiling?”

“I did.”

“It’s like the ceiling in the Great Hall,” Potter said, his eyes fixed on the bright blue sky. “This is so cool.”

They stood there in silence for a while as Potter marveled at the sky and Draco practically burned a hole into the back of Potter’s head with his eyes.

“So, you felt like doing it outdoors but didn’t want to leave the comfort of your bed, is that it?” Potter chuckled.

Draco took a deep breath. “Actually…” He debated walking up to Potter but decided to stay a few paces behind him. “Luna told me about… She told me about the cupboard.”

Potter’s head whipped around so fast, he almost lost his balance. Clearly, this had been the last thing he had expected. And honestly, Draco hadn’t even wanted to bring it up. But ever since Luna had told him, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, especially while he had been in his spacious and adorned bedroom; he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about little Potter, cramped into a fucking cupboard, probably without enough air to breathe.

Draco felt a flush creep up his face as Potter kept staring at him.

“I probably shouldn’t have said anything,” he murmured and swiftly walked up to him. “I don’t want you to think about what those sick bastards did to you. Ever.”

Potter blinked at him in astonishment. Wordlessly, Draco took his hand and squeezed it. He watched Potter as he thoughtfully turned his gaze to the sky again and understanding slowly dawned on his face. When his eyes found Draco’s once more, they were glistening.

“Draco,” he whispered.

Honestly, it was his own fault for doing something so soppy.

“Whatever,” Draco muttered, hoping Potter wouldn’t come any closer and notice how fast his heart was beating. “Let’s go lie down.”

Silently, they watched the clouds roll by, side by side, until Draco felt warm fingers on his arm. He turned his head, only to find Potter smiling at him.

“Whatever, Potter,” he murmured with a stubborn crease on his forehead. Potter let out a breathy laugh before he leaned over and sent Draco’s pulse into overdrive with a maddening kiss. “Promise me you’ll tell me when something’s bothering you,” Draco said when Potter pulled back. “Don’t go and isolate yourself.” He brushed a few strands of hair out of Potter’s face. “I don’t care if we end up fighting. Just… talk to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Potter whispered.

“And please, for once, think about what _you_ want, okay?”

Potter didn’t respond immediately. He bit his lip and put his hand over Draco’s on his face. “I— I know what I want. At least, um—”

“What?”

“I know at least one thing.”

“What? What is it?” Draco furrowed his brows at Potter’s jittery voice. His expression was weird, too.

“I— I want to be yours.”

Was it Draco’s imagination or was the sunlight suddenly scorching? He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, praying he wasn’t dreaming. But if he wasn’t… He had no idea what was the appropriate response to something like this. His body, however, thought it was appropriate to unleash a massive storm of giddiness inside him and send shockwaves down his spine. He only realised he was smiling like a complete idiot when Potter grinned, climbed on top of him and started snogging him senseless. He flinched when Draco put his hands on his sides, but slowly relaxed as Draco let out a contented sigh. Baby steps, he thought.

“I could get used to surprises like this,” Potter said in-between kisses. “You know you’ve completely ruined me, right?”

“For other men?”

“For everybody.” He pulled back a little and started drawing circles beneath Draco’s collarbone. “You know, we’re always talking about what I want, but… what do you want?”

Draco gave him a lopsided smile and let his hand travel up to his neck where he buried it in his untamable hair. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried about the fact that these kind of revelations didn’t seem as scary anymore and felt much more comfortable on his lips.

“You know what I want,” he said softly. “It’s right here in front of me.”

Potter was perfectly still for a second before he made a gagging sound in mock disgust and they both burst out laughing. Draco poked his side playfully and pulled him back down again.

“Happy birthday, Potter,” he murmured against his lips. He felt Potter chuckle and couldn’t help doing so himself. This was it. He had never been happier in his life. It was such a strange feeling; so unfamiliar, so beautiful and so powerful, it actually hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it to the end ;)
> 
> And, lastly, thank you to the amazing [deluminatormischiefmaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deluminatormischiefmaker) aka [deluminatorillustrator](http://deluminatorillustrator.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, who saved me and this fic by basically being my muse and who graciously allowed me to share a link to [their amazing art](http://deluminatorillustrator.tumblr.com/post/172878721403/show-me-yours-ill-show-you-mine-lets-see-which) ❤️️ At one point, I was so blocked I couldn’t write for several weeks. Then, I saw this stunning piece of art and it was like the idea I had in my head for so long had suddenly come to life. It inspired the scene in the last chapter when Draco finally goes and talks to Harry :)


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